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FIGHTING JOE 

OR 

THE FORTUNES OF A STAFF OFFICER 


A STORY OF THE GREAT REBELLION 


,U--- • T 

By OLIVER OPTIC 

Author of 

^*The Yankee Middy,” “The Soldier Boy,” “The Sailor Boy,*‘ 
“The Young Lieutenant,” etc. 


A. L. BURT COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 


I 




/ 




PREFACE 


This volume, the fifth of “The Army and 
Navy Stories,” is not a biography of the distin- 
guished soldier whose sobriquet in the army has 
been chosen as its principal title, though the promi- 
nent incidents of his military career are noticed 
in its pages. The writeV offers his humble tribute 
of admiration to the energetic and devoted general 
who will be recognized under the appellation given 
to this work; but perhaps the object of the volume 
may be better represented by the second title. It 
follows Tom Somers, “The Soldier Boy” and 
“The Young Lieutenant,” in his brilliant and dar- 
ing career as a staff officer through some of the 
most stormy and trying scenes of the late war. 

As in the volumes of the series which have pre- 
ceded it, the best sources of information upon mili- 
tary events have been carefully consulted; and to 
the extent to which the book is properly historical 
it is intended to be faithful in its delineations. But 
the work is more correctly a record of personal 
adventure, no more complicated, daring and ro- 
5 


6 


PREFACE 


mantle than may be found in the experience of 
many who, through trial and tribulation, through 
victory and defeat, have passed from the inception 
to the gigantic failure of this gigantic rebellion. 

More earnest than any other purpose in the pro- 
duction of the book, it has been the object of the 
writer to exhibit a character in his hero worthy the 
imitation of the boy and the man who may read it ; 
and if it does not inculcate a lofty patriotism and 
a noble and Christian morality, it will have failed 
of the highest aim of the author. 

With the still stronger expression of gratitude 
which the increasing favor bestowed upon previous 
efforts demands of me, I pass the fifth volume of 
the series into the hands of my indulgent friends, 
hoping that it will not fall short of their reasonable 
expectations. 

WILLIAM T. ADAMS. 
Harrison Square, Mass., Dec. 12, 1865. 


FIGHTING JOE 

OR 

THE FORTUNES OF A STAFF OFFICER 


CHAPTER I 

A FIGHTING MAN 

“Well, Alick, I don’t know where I am,” said 
Captain Thomas Somers, of the staff of the major- 
general commanding the first army corps of the 
Army of the Potomac, then on its march to repel 
the invasion of Maryland which had been attempt- 
ed by the victorious rebels under General Lee. 

“Well, massa, I’m sure I don’t know,” replied 
Alick, his colored servant. “If you was down ’bout 
Petersburg, I reckon I’d know all ’bout it.” 

“We must find out very soon,” added Captain 
Somers, as he reined in his horse at a point where 
two roads branched off, one to the northwest and 
the other to the southwest. 

“Dey ain’t no house ’bout here, massa.” 

“I don’t want to lose my way, for I have no 
time to spare.” 


7 


8 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Bar’s somebody cornin’ up behind, massa,” said 
Alick, who first heard the sounds of horses’ feet 
approaching in the direction from which they had 
just come. 

Captain Somers, after receiving the agreeable in- 
telligence of his appointment on the staff of the 
general, in whose division he had served on the 
Peninsula, hastened to Washington to report for 
duty. He had hardly time to visit his friends, and 
was obliged to content himself with a short call on 
Miss Lilian Ashford, though he had an invitation 
to spend the evening with the family, extended for 
the purpose of enabling the young gentleman to 
cultivate an acquaintance with the beautiful girl’s 
grandmother. 

Lilian’s father’s mother was certainly a very 
estimable old lady, and her granddaughter loved 
and reverenced her with a fervor which was almost 
enthusiastic. It was quite natural, therefore, that 
she should wish Captain Somers — for whom she 
had knitted a pair of socks, which had been no 
small portion of his inspiration in the hour of bat- 
tle, and for whom she had contracted a friendship 
— it was quite natural that she should wish to have 
the captain well acquainted with her grandmother. 
She loved the old lady herself, and of course so 
brave, handsome and loyal a person as her friend 
had proved to be must share her reverence and 
respect. Besides, the venerable woman remem- 


FIGHTING JOE 


9 


bcrcd all about the last war with Great Britain. 
Her husband had been one of the firemen sent out 
with axes to cut away the bridges which connected 
Boston with the surrounding country, when an in- 
vasion of the town was expected. She could tell 
a good story, and as Somers was a military man, 
it was highly important that he should know all 
about the dreaded invasion which did not take 
place. 

Captain Somers was obliged to deprive himself 
of the pleasure of listening to the old lady’s history 
of those stirring events, for more exciting ones 
were in progress on the very day of which we write. 
He was sorry, for he anticipated a great deal of 
pleasure from the visit, though whether he ex- 
pected to derive the whole of it from the presence 
of the grandmother, we are not informed; and it 
would be wicked to pry too deeply into the secrets 
of the young man’s heart. We are not quite sure 
that Lilian was entirely unselfish when she de- 
scribed what a rich treat the old lady’s narrative 
would be, but we are certain that she was entirely 
sincere, and that it was quite proper to offer some 
extra inducement to secure the gallant captain’s 
attendance. 

The captain did not need any extraordinary in- 
ducements, beyond the presence of the fair Lilian 
herself. We even believe that he would have cheer- 
fully spent the evening at No. — Rutland Street 


10 


FIGHTING JOE 


if there had been no one but herself to give him a 
welcome and aid him in passing away the hours. 
Nothing but a high sense ^of duty could have led 
him to break the engagement. The rebel hordes, 
victorious before Washington, and elated by the 
signal successes they had won, were pouring into 
Maryland, menacing Washington, Baltimore and 
Philadelphia. It was a time which tried the souls 
of patriotic men — a time when no man who loved 
his country could rest in peace while there was a 
work which his hands could do. 

The young staff officer called upon the lady and 
stated his situation. She blushed, as she always 
did in his presence, and gave him a godspeed on 
his patriotic mission. She hoped he would not be 
killed, or even wounded; that his feeble health 
would be restored; and that God would bless him 
as he went forth to do battle for his treason-ridden 
land. She was pale when he took her hand at 
parting; her bosom heaved with emotions, to which 
Somers found a response in his own heart, but 
which he could not explain. 

He went to Washington, but the gallant army, 
still suffering from the pangs of recent defeat, but 
yet strong in the cause they had espoused, had 
marched to the scene of new battles. Somers had 
already provided himself with his staff uniform, 
and he remained in Washington only long enough 
to purchase two horses, one of which he mounted 


FIGHTING JOE 


11 


himself, while Alick rode the other, and started for 
the advance of the army. The roads were so cum- 
bered with artillery trains and baggage wagons 
that his progress was very slow, and the corps to 
which he now belonged was several days in ad- 
vance of him. By the advice of a general officer, 
he had made a detour from the direct road and 
passed through a comparatively quiet country. 

The rebels were at Frederick City, and their 
cavalry, in large and small bodies, was scattered 
all over the region, gathering supplies for the half- 
starved, half-clothed men of Lee’s army. Thus 
far Somers had met none of these marauders, nor 
any of the guerillas, who, without a license from 
either side, were plundering soldiers and civilians 
who could offer no resistance. Somers had ridden 
as rapidly as his feeble state of health would per- 
mit, but his enthusiasm had urged him forward 
until his horse was more in danger of giving out 
than the rider. But when he reached the cross- 
roads, at which we find him, doubtful about the 
right way, he had slept the preceding night at a 
farmhouse, and horse and rider were now in excel- 
lent condition. 

“Are your pistols ready for use, Alick?” asked 
Somers, as he heard the sounds of the horses’ feet. 

“Yes, sar; always keep the pistols ready. But 
what you gwine to do with pistols here?” replied 
the servant, as he took his weapon from his pocket. 


FIGHTING JOK 


n 


“The country is full of rebels and guerillas ; they 
nay want our horses, and perhaps ourselves. I 
can’t spare my coat and boots very well at present.” 

“Guess not, massa,” laughed Alick, as he exam- 
ined the lock of his pistol. 

“I have never seen you in a fight, Alick. Do you 
think you can stand up to it?” 

“Well, massa, I don’t want to say much about 
that, but I reckon I won’t run away no faster’n 
you clo.” 

“If I get into trouble with these ruffians, I shall 
want to know whether I can depend on you, or 
not.” 

“Golly, massa! You can depend on me till the 
cows come home 1” exclaimed Alick. “I,^doesn’t like 
to say much about it, but if these yere hossmen 
wants to fight. I’m not the chile to run away.” 

“They don’t look much like rebels or guerillas,” 
added Somers, as he obtained his first view of the 
approaching horsemen. “But you can’t tell much 
by the looks in these times, for the villains have 
robbed us till half of them wear our own colors. 
Those people certainly wear the uniform of our 
army.” 

“Dar’s only two of ’em, massa. I reckon they 
don’t want to fight much.” 

“I only wish to be cautious ; very likely they are 
loyal and true men,” replied Somers, as the stran- 


FIGHTING JOE 


13 


gers came too near to permit any further remarks 
in regard to their probable character. 

Both the travelers were evidently officers of the 
army, though, as Somers had suggested, it was im- 
possible to tell what anybody was by the looks, or 
even if he was seen to take the oath of allegiance. 
As they came round a bend of the road, and dis- 
covered the captain and his servant, they reined up 
their steeds, and seemed to be disturbed by the 
same doubts which had troubled the first party. 
But they advanced, after a cautious survey, and 
each of them touched his cap when they came with- 
in speaking distance. Somers politely returned the 
salute, and moved his horse towards them. 

“Good-morning, gentlemen,” said he. “Can you 
inform me which is the road to Frederick City?” 

“The left, sir. If you are going in that direc- 
tion, we shall be glad of your company,” replied 
one of the officers. 

“Thank you; I shall be glad to go with you.” 

“I see by your Uniform that you belong on the 
staff,” added the officer who had done the talking. 

“Yes, sir;” and Somers, without reserve, in- 
formed him who and what he was. 

“Somers !” exclaimed the stranger. “I have 
heard of you before. Perhaps you remember one 
Dr. Scoville, of Petersburg?” 

“Perfectly,” laughed Somers. 

“Well, sir, he is an uncle of mine.” 


14 


FIGHTING JOE 


‘‘Indeed? I took you to be an officer of the 
United States army.” 

“So I am; but my father married a sister of Dr. 
Scoville.” 

“Dr. Scoville is a very good sort of man, but he 
is an awful rebel. I suppose he bears no good-will 
towards me and my friend Major de Banyan.” 

“Perhaps not; but the affair was a capital joke 
on the doctor. And since he is a rebel, and a very 
pestilent one, too, I enjoyed it quite as much as you 
did.” 

“I feel very grateful to him for what he did for 
me. I went into hjs house without an invitation; 
he dressed my wound and nearly cured me. When 
the soldiers came upon us, he promised to give us 
up at the proper time, and pledged himself for our 
safety. We left him, one day, rather shabbily, I 
confess ; but we had no taste for a rebel prison, for 
the rebs don’t always manage their prisons very 
well.” 

“I have heard the whole story. It’s rich. If you 
please, we will move on.” 

“With all my heart, major,” replied Somers, 
who read his rank from his shoulder-straps. 

“I am Major Riggleston, of the — nd Maryland 
Home Brigade, on detached duty just now.” 

“I am glad to know you. Major Riggleston, 
especially as you are a relative of my friend Dr. 
Scoville, and on the right side.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


15 


“This is Captain Barkwood, of the regulars.” 

Somers saluted the quiet gentleman, who had 
hardly spoken during the interview. Major Rig- 
gleston was dressed in an entirely new uniform, and 
rode a splendid horse, which led Somers to believe 
that he belonged to one of the wealthy and aristo- 
cratic families of the State which so tardily em- 
braced the cause of the Union. On the other hand, 
Captain Barkwood looked as though he had seen 
hard service, for his uniform was rusty, and his 
face was bronzed by exposure beneath the fervid 
sun of the South. 

The party were excellently well acquainted with 
each other before they had ridden a mile. After 
the topics suggested by the first meeting had been 
exhausted, Somers mentioned his fear of the gueril- 
las and rebel marauders, who kept a little way in 
advance of the invading army. The travelers were 
now farther north than Frederick, and some dis- 
tance from the advancing line of the Union army. 
The road they had chosen was not one of the great 
thoroughfares of the State; consequently it was but 
little frequented. 

“I don’t object to meeting a small party of guer- 
illas,” said Major Riggleston; “for, gentlemen, if 
you are of the same mind that I am, we should 
show them the quality of true Union steel.” 

“I hope we shall not meet any; but if we do, I 
am in no humor to lose my horse or my boots,” re- 


16 


FIGHTING JOE 


plied Somers. “But we may meet so many of them 
that it would be better to trust to our horses' heels 
than to the quality of our steel.” 

“True — too many would not be agreeable; but, 
say a dozen or twenty of them. We could whip 
that number without difficulty. The fact is, gen- 
tlemen, I am a fighting man. There has been too 
much of this looking at the enemy and then running 
away. I repeat, gentlemen, I am a fighting man.” 

“I am glad to hear it, and glad to have met you, 
for I am told that there are a good many of these 
small plundering parties loose about this region, 
and I would rather fight than lose my boots,” 
laughed Somers. 

“Three of us can do a good thing,” added the 
major. 

“Four,” suggested Somers. 

“Four?” 

“My man can fight.” 

“But he is a nigger; niggers won’t fight.” 

“He will. By the way, he came from your 
uncle’s at Petersburg.” 

“Alick!” exclaimed the major, glancing back at 
the servant. 

He did not seem to be well pleased to discover 
one of his uncle’s contrabands at this distance from 
home, for, with many other chivalrous Southrons, 
he believed it would be a good thing to preserve the 
Union, if slavery could be preserved with it. He 


FIGHTING JOE 17 

spoke a few words to Alick, but did not seem to 
enjoy the interview. 

“Yes, we can whip at least twenty of the vil- 
lains,” added the major, as he resumed his place 
between Somers and Captain Barkwood. “What 
do you think?” he continued, turning to the reg- 
ular. 

“I hope we shall not meet any. I am a coward 
by nature. I would rather run than fight, any 
time,” replied the captain. “Of all things, I dis- 
like these small skirmishes, these hand-to-hand 
fights.” 

“I like them; I’m a fighting man,” said the 
major. 

“I’m afraid you will have a chance to test your 
mettle,” said Somers. “Those fellows are gueril- 
las, if I mistake not,” added he, pointing to half a 
dozen horsemen who were approaching them. 


CHAPTER II 


A SKIRMISH ON THE ROAD 

The horsemen who had attracted the attention 
of Captain Somers were hard-looking fellows. 
They were dressed in a miscellaneous manner, their 
clothes being partly civilian and partly military. 
Portions of their garb were new, and probably at 
no distant period had been part of the stock in 
trade of some industrious clothier in one of the in- 
vaded towns, and portions were faded and dilapi- 
dated, bearing the traces of a severe march through 
the soft mud of Virginia. It was not easy to mis- 
take their character. 

The guerillas perceived the approaching party 
almost as soon as they were themselves perceived. 
They adopted no uncertain tactics, but instantly put 
spurs to their horses and galloped up to the little 
squad of officers. They appeared to have no doubts 
whatever in regard to the issue of the meeting, for 
they resorted to no cautionary movements and 
made no prudential halts. They had evidently 
had everything their own way in previous encoun- 
18 


FIGHTING JOE 


19 


ters of this description, and seemed to be satisfied 
that they had only to demand an unconditional sur- 
render in order to find their way at once to the 
pockets of the travelers, or to appropriate their 
coats and boots to the use of the rebel army. 

“Halt!” said the nondescript gentleman at the 
head of the guerillas. 

“Your business?” demanded Major Riggleston. 

“Sorry to trouble you, gentlemen, but you are 
my prisoners,” said the chief guerilla, as blandly 
as though he had been in a drawing-room. 

“Who are you, gentlemen?” asked the major. 

“I don’t like to be uncivil to a well-dressed gen- 
tleman like yourself, but I haven’t learned my cate- 
chism lately and can’t stop to be questioned. In 
one word, do you surrender?” 

“Allow me a moment to consult with my 
friends.” 

“Only one moment.” 

“Don’t you think we had better surrender, Cap- 
tain Somers?” 

“I thought you were a fighting man,” replied 
Somers. 

“I am when circumstances will admit of it; but 
they are two to our one.” 

“Just now you thought we were a match for at 
least twenty of these fellows.” 

“Time’s up, gentlemen,” said the dashing gue- 
rilla. 


20 


FIGHTING JOE 


“What do you say, Captain Somers?” 

“You can do as you please. I don’t surrender, 
for one.” 

“But this is madness.” 

“I don’t care what it is; I am going to fight my 
way through.” 

“Do you surrender?” demanded the impatient 
chief of the horsemen. 

“No!” replied Somers, in his most decided tone. 

“Then you are a dead man 1” And the guerilla 
raised his pistol. 

Somers already had one of his revolvers in his 
hand, and before the villain had fairly uttered the 
words, he presented his weapon and fired, as quick 
as the flash of lightning. The leader dropped from 
his horse, and his pistol was discharged In the act, 
but the ball went into the ground. Almost at the 
same instant the quiet captain of the regulars fired, 
and wounded another of the banditti. The others, 
apparently astonished at this unexpected resistance, 
discharged their pistols, and pressed forward, with 
their sabers in hand, to avenge the fall of their 
comrades. 

Somers rapidly fired the other barrels of his re- 
volver, and so did Captain Barkwood, but without 
the same decisive effect as before, though two of 
the assailants appeared to be slightly wounded. 
There was no further opportunity to use firearms, 
and the officers drew their swords, as they fell back 


FIGHTING JOE 


SI 

before the impetuous charge of the savage gueril- 
las. Major Riggleston followed their example, 
and for a moment the sparks flew from the well- 
tempered steel of the combatants. Our officers 
were accomplished swordsmen, but the furious 
rebels appeared to be getting the better of them. 
Major Riggleston contrived to wheel his horse, 
and was so fortunate as to get out of the melee 
with a whole skin. 

At this point, when victory seemed about to 
perch on the rebel standard, Alick, who had thus 
far been ignored, brought down a third guerilla 
with his pistol. The negro was cool, collected and 
self-possessed. He had not fired before, because 
the officers stood between him and the assailants. 
Now, as he had no sword, he stood off and took 
deliberate aim at his man. 

Captain Barkwood, who was a man of immense 
muscle, succeeded, after a desperate hand-to-hand 
conflict, in wounding his opponent in the sword- 
arm. The fellow dropped his weapon and, turning 
his horse, fled with the utmost precipitation. The 
only remaining one, finding himself alone, imme- 
diately followed his example. The battle was won, 
and the coats and boots were evidently saved. 

“Why don’t you follow them?” cried Major 
Riggleston, rushing madly up to the spot at this 
decisive moment. “Hunt them down ! Tear them 
to piece^!” 


22 


FIGHTING JOE 


“We’ll leave that for our fighting man to do,” 
replied Somers, with a smile, though he was so 
much out of breath with the violence of his exer- 
tions that he could scarcely articulate the words. 

“Don’t let them escape,” added the major, furi- 
ously. “Cut them down 1 Don’t let them plunder 
the country any more.” 

As he spoke, he put spurs to his horse and 
dashed madly up the road in pursuit of the de- 
feated guerillas. 

“Your hand. Captain Somers,” said the regular. 
“You are a trump.” 

“Thank you; and I am happy to reciprocate the 
compliment,” replied the young staff officer, as he 
took the proffered hand of Captain Barkwood. 

“As a general rule, I don’t think much of volun- 
teer officers,” continued the regular; “but you are 
a stunning good fellow, and as plucky as a hen that 
has lost one of her chickens.” 

“I am obliged to you for your good opinion, and 
especially for your ornithological simile,” laughed 
Somers, who, we need not add, was delighted with 
the conduct of his companion. 

“My what?” 

“Your ornithological simile.” 

“My dear fellow, you must have swallowed a 
quarto dictionary. If you had only used that ex- 
pression before the fight, the rebels would certainly 
have run away, and declined to engage a man who 


FIGHTING JOE 


2S 


used words of such ominous length. No matter; 
you can fight.” 

“I can when I am obliged to do so. You re- 
marked, a little while ago, that you were a coward 
by nature.” 

“So I am; but it was safer to fight than it was 
to run.” 

“You did not behave like a man who is a coward 
by nature. 

“But I am a coward; and I dislike these hand- 
to-hand encounters.” 

“You didn’t appear to dislike them very much 
just now,” added Somers, who was filled with ad- 
miration at the gallant bearing of the regular. 

“I do. War is a science; I play at it just as I do 
at chess. By the way, Captain Somers, do you 
play chess?” 

“Only a little.” 

“Well, it’s a noble game, and I may have the 
pleasure of letting you beat me some time. War is 
like chess; it’s a great game. I like to see a well- 
planned battle, and even to take part in it. But 
these little affairs, where everything depends on 
brute force, are my particular abomination. There 
is no science about them — no strategy — no chance 
to flank or do any other smart thing.” 

“Here comes the major; he didn’t catch his 
man,” said Somers, as the “fighting man” was seen 
galloping towards them. 


g4 


FIGHTING JOE 


“He’s a prudent man,” replied the regular, hard- 
ly betraying the contempt he felt for this particular 
volunteer. 

“He’s a Maryland man.” 

“So am I,” promptly returned Captain Bark- 
wood, as though he feared that something might 
be said against the bravery of the men of his State. 
“I was born and brought up not ten miles from the 
spot where we now stand.” 

“Why, didn’t you follow me?” demanded the 
major, in a reproachful tone, as he reined in his 
panting steed. 

“We had got enough of it,” answered the reg- 
ular. 

“We might have brought them down if you had 
joined me in the pursuit.” 

“We might, if you had stuck by us in the fight,” 
said Somers, with a gentle smile, to break the force 
of the rebuke. 

“Stood by you?” exclaimed Major Riggleston, 
his face flushed with anger. “Do you intend to 
insinuate that I did not stand by you ?” 

“You did, but at a safe distance.” 

“Didn’t I do all the talking with the villains?” 
foamed the major. 

“Certainly you did,” replied the regular. 

“Didn’t I bear the whole brunt of the assault at 
the beginning?” 


FIGHTING JOE 


25 


“Undoubtedly you did,” responded Captain 
Barkwood, before Somers could speak a word. 

“Didn’t I fight like a tiger till ” 

“Unquestionably you did.” 

“Till my rein got entangled in my spur and 
whirled my horse round?” 

“My dear major, you behaved like a lion,” said 
Barkwood, in tones so soothing that the anger of 
Riggleston passed away like the shadow of a sum- 
mer cloud. 

“I am a fighting man.” 

“That’s so.” 

“And I dislike this marching and countermarch- 
ing in the face of an enemy.” 

“There we unfortunately disagree for the first 
time. That is strategy — the art of war — and all 
that makes war glorious.” 

“I believe in pitching into an enemy and, when 
he is beaten, in following him up till there is noth- 
ing left of him. I regret, gentlemen, that you did 
not join in the pursuit of the two miscreants with 
me. We might have annihilated them as well as 
not.” 

Somers did not understand the humor of the 
regular, and could not fathom his object in permit- 
ting the coward still to believe that he was a fight- 
ing man. While the conversation was in progress, 
Alick had removed the bodies of the two dead 
rebels from the road, and placed the other two. 


26 


FIGHTING JOE 


who were severely wouaded, in a comfortable posi- 
tion under a tree. He had filled their canteens 
with water from the brook which ran across the 
road a short distance from the spot, and left them 
to live or die, as the future might determine. He 
had also transferred a good saddle from one of the 
guerillas’ horses to his own animal, which had not 
before been provided with one. 

The party moved on again. Major Riggleston 
talked about the fight ; for some reason or other he 
could speak of nothing else. He still called him- 
self a fighting man, and still talked as though he 
had fired the most effective shots and struck the 
hardest blows which had been given. The regular 
agreed with him in all things, except when he im- 
pugned the sacred claims of strategy. 

“Never cross a fool in his folly, nor ruin a man 
in his own estimation,” said Captain Barkwood, 
when Somers, at a favorable moment, asked an ex- 
planation of his singular commendation of the pol- 
troon. 

“But he is a coward.” 

“Call no man a coward but yourself. There is 
hardly an officer in the army, from the general-in- 
chief down to the corporal of the meanest regiment 
in the service, that has not been called a coward. 
You don’t know who are cowards and who are 
not.” 

“Perhaps you are right.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


2T 


*‘I know I am. I am a coward myself, but I 
know nothing about anybody else.” 

“I differ with you.” 

“You don’t know anything about it. The major 
doesn’t love you overmuch now for what you hint- 
ed. Never make an enemy when there is no need 
of it.” 

The approach of Major Riggleston put an end 
to the conversation. Somers could not help noticing 
that the major treated him rather cavalierly; but, 
as he was not particularly anxious to secure the 
esteem of such a man, the manner of his compan- 
ion did not disturb him. 

In the afternoon the party reached Frederick, 
which had just been abandoned by Lee’s rear-guard 
and was now occupied by a portion of McClellan’s 
advance. 

“Gentlemen, we have had a hard ride, and I 
know you must be tired as well as myself,” said 
Major Riggleston, as they entered the city. “You 
will permit me to offer you the hospitalities of my 
father’s house.” 

“Thank you; I accept, for one,” replied Cap- 
tain Barkwood. “I am not tired, but I am half 
starved.” 

“And you, Somers?” added the major, with a 
degree of cordiality in his manner which he had not 
exhibited since the skirmish on the road. 

The young captain had been in the saddle all 


£8 


FIGHTING JOE 


day; his health was feeble, and he was very much 
exhausted by the journey. He had hoped to reach 
the headquarters of the first army corps that night; 
but he was still several miles distant from his des- 
tination, and his physical condition did not admit 
of this addition to his day’s travel. With many 
thanks he accepted the invitation, apparently so 
cordially extended, and the little party halted, soon 
after, in the grounds of an elegant mansion. The 
tired horses were given into the keeping of the 
servants and Major Riggleston led the way into 
the house. 

They were ushered into the drawing-room, 
where the major excused himself to inform the 
family of their arrival. He left the door open 
behind him. 

“They are Yankee officers!” exclaimed a female 
voice. “What did Fred bring them here for? Get 
out of sight, Ernest, as fast as you can.” 

A door leading from the entry closed, and the 
visitors heard no more. The regular paid no atten- 
tion to the remark, and Somers followed his ex- 
ample. 


CHAPTER III 


FIGHTING JOE 

Captain Somers, though he said nothing to his 
companion about the remark to which they had 
listened, could not help thinking about it. The 
regular and himself had been alluded to as Yankee 
officers. It was evident that some one was present 
who ought not to be present ; but, as a guest in the 
house, it was not competent for him to investigate 
the meaning of the suspicious words. 

Major Riggleston presently returned to the 
drawing-room, attended by an elderly gentleman, 
whom he introduced as his father, and a beautiful 
but majestic and haughty young lady of eighteen, 
whom he introduced as Miss Maud Hasbrouk. 
When Somers heard her voice, which was as musi- 
cal as the rippling of a mountain rill, he recog- 
nized the tones of the person who had used the 
doubtful words in the adjoining room. 

The old gentleman was happy to see the visitors, 
especially as they belonged to the Union army, 
whose presence was welcome to him after the visit 


so 


FIGHTING elOE 


of the rebels. He hoped that General McClellan 
would be able to drive the invaders from the soil — 
conquer, capture and exterminate them. His words 
were certainly strong enough to vouch for his loy- 
alty; and these, added to the fact that the major 
was an officer in the Maryland Home Brigade, sat- 
isfied Somers that he had not fallen into a nest of 
rebels and traitors, as the obnoxious remark, not 
intended for his ears, had almost led him to be- 
lieve. 

“The more true men we have here, the better, 
for we have been completely overrun by traitors,” 
said the old gentleman, alluding to the visit of 
Lee’s army. 

“You use strong words, Mr. Riggleston,” added 
the lady, whose bright eyes flashed as she spoke. 

“I say what I mean,” continued the host. 

“Is there any doubt of the fact that the State 
has been invaded by the rebels?” asked Somers, 
with a smile. 

“None whatever; but Mr. Riggleston called 
them traitors,” replied Miss Hasbrouk. 

“Is there any doubt of that fact?” 

“Are men who are fighting for the dearest rights 
of man traitors?” demanded she, warmly. 

“Undoubtedly not. But the rebels are not fight- 
ing for any such thing.” 

“I beg your pardon. Captain Somers. I think 
they are. Permit me to add that I am a rebel.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


31 


“I am very sorry to hear it,” laughed Somers, 
pleased with the spirit, no less than the beauty, of 
the lady. 

“I suppose you are,” replied she. “The South 
is fighting for the right of self-government — for 
its own existence. The right of secession is just as 
evident to me as the right to live.” 

The question of secession was fully discussed by 
the lady and Somers, but both of them were in the 
best of humor. Neither contestant succeeded in 
convincing the other on a single point, and when 
the party were called to supper they had advanced 
just about as far as the statesmen had when the 
momentous issue was handed over to the arbitra- 
ment of arms. It was a matter to be adjusted by 
hard fighting, and, as Miss Hasbrouk and Somers 
did not intend to settle the question in this rude 
manner, the subject was dropped. 

The family, so far as Somers could judge, were 
loyal people. The imperial young lady, who was 
a fit type of the Southern character, was only a 
visitor. In spite of her proud and haughty bear- 
ing, she was a very agreeable person, and the guests 
enjoyed her society. 

“I am a rebel,” said she, as they sat down to sup- 
per; “but I am, sorely against my will, I confess, a 
non-combatant, and we are now on neutral ground. 
We will bury our differences, then. Captain Som- 
ers, and be friends.” 


32 FIGHTING JOE 

“With all my heart,” replied the gallant young 
captain. 

A very pleasant evening was spent in the draw- 
ing-room, during which Miss Hasbrouk affected 
the company of Somers rather than that of the 
regular, who appeared to be as stoical in society 
as he was on the road. She was lively, wdtty and 
fascinating, and seemed to be very much delighted 
with the society of the young staff officer. He was 
an exceedingly good-looking fellow, it is true ; but 
he was a Yankee, and she made no secret of her 
aversion to Yankees in general. He was an excep- 
tion to the rule, and she compelled him to relate the 
history of his brief campaign at Petersburg. She 
laughed at the chagrin of Dr. Scoville when his 
invalid took to himself wings and flew away, but 
she took no pains to conceal her sympathy with the 
cause of the Confederacy. 

At an early hour the officers retired, and as they 
announced their intention to depart at daylight in 
the morning, they took leave of the ladies. Miss 
Hasbrouk was so kind as to hope she might meet 
the captain again, for, notwithstanding his vile 
political affinities, he was a sensible person. 

Before the sun rose, Somers and the regular 
were in the saddle. The major, whose route lay 
in a different direction, was no longer their com- 
panion. The headquarters of the first army corps 
were on the Monocacy, and thither the travelers 


FIGHTING JOE 


SS 

wended their way through a beautiful country, 
which excited the admiration even of the stoical 
captain of the regulars, though it was no new scene 
to him. 

The reveille was sounding in the camps of the 
Pennsylvania Reserves as they passed through on 
their way to the tent of the commanding general. 
They reached their destination, and their names 
were sent in by an orderly in attendance. 

“Captain Somers, I am glad to see you,” said the 
general, at a later hour, when they obtained an 
audience. 

“Thank you, general ; I am very grateful for the 
kindness and consideration you have bestowed upon 
me,” replied Somers. 

“You are an aide-de-camp now; but I ought to 
say that I gave you the appointment because you 
are a good fellow on a scout.” 

“I will do my best in whatever position you may 
place me.” 

“You were rather unfortunate in your last trip, 
but you accomplished the work I gave you to do. 
We shall do some hard fighting in a day or two, 
and there will be sharp work for you before that 
comes off.” 

“I am ready, general. Every man is ready to 
march or fight as long as he can stand while you 
are in command.” 

“I will see you again in an hour, Somers,” said 


FIGHTING JOE 


M 

the general, as he turned to Captain Barkwood, 
who belonged to the engineers, and had been as- 
signed to a position on the staff. 

Somers soon made the acquaintance of the gen- 
eral’s “military family.” His position and rank 
were defined in the general orders, and duly pro- 
mulgated. From those around him he obtained all 
the current knowledge in regard to the situation of 
the rebel army, which was posted in the Catoctin 
Valley, with the South Mountain range in the rear, 
whose gaps and passes it was to defend. 

At the time appointed, Captain Somers again 
stood in the presence of the general, who was his 
beau ideal of all that was grand and heroic in the 
military chieftain. He was a tall, straight, well- 
formed man, with a ruddy complexion, flecked with 
little thready veins, and a muscular frame. His 
eye was full of energy; he spoke with his eye as 
much as with his voice. His military history was 
familiar to the nation. He was a decided man, 
and his decision had won him his first appointment 
in the army. He said what he meant, and meant 
what he said. His energy of character had made 
him a success from the beginning. His faith in 
himself and his faith in the loyal army were un- 
bounded. He fought and conquered by the force 
of his mighty will. He attempted only what was 
possible, and triumphed through the faith of an 
earnest soul. His military judgment was of the 


FIGHTING JOE 


35 


highest order, and when he had decided what could 
be done, he did It. His conclusions, however sud- 
denly reached, were not the offspring of impulse; 
they were carefully drawn from well-founded pre- 
mises. His quick eye and his solid judgment rap- 
idly collated all the facts In regard to an enemy’s 
strength, relative situation, and advantage of posi- 
tion, and from them he promptly deduced the con- 
clusion whether to fight or not — how, when and 
where to fight. 

The general’s pet name was “Fighting Joe,” and 
by this appellation he was known and loved In the 
army. But he was not a rash man; he made no 
unconsidered movements. If the term Implies 
rashness and blundering impetuosity, it Is a mis- 
nomer; but, after Williamsburg, Glendale, Mal- 
vern, South Mountain, Antletam, Lookout Moun- 
tain, who could mistake Its meaning? for his battles 
were too uniformly successful to be the issues of 
merely headlong courage and unmatured strategy. 
All his operations on the splendid fields where he 
has so gloriously distinguished himself exhibit a 
head as well as an arm ; carefully considered plan, 
as well as bold and determined execution. 

The mention of “Fighting Joe” warmed the 
hearts of the soldiers. He was more popular than 
any other general in the army. Our soldiers were 
thinking men, as well as brave ones. They could 
not love and honor a general who led them into 


36 


FIGHTING JOE 


the forefront of battle to be entrapped and sacri- 
ficed. They could not believe in a man whose high- 
est recommendation was brute courage. “Fight- 
ing Joe” was one of the ablest strategists in the 
army, and, wherever he has justified his title as a 
fighting man, he has also displayed the highest 
skill and judgment, and a profound knowledge and 
appreciation of the science of war. 

Somers stood before the general with a certain 
feeling of awe and reverence, which one experi- 
ences in the presence of a truly great man. There 
was no time to talk of the past, for the present and 
the future were full of trials and cares — were full 
of a nation’s life and hope. Fighting Joe was cool 
and self-possessed, as he always was, even in the 
mad rage of the hottest fight; but he was earnest 
and anxious. He was even now doing that work 
which wins battles quite as much as the fiery on- 
slaught. 

Burnside was in command of the right wing of 
the army, which occupied the vicinity of Frederick. 
The rebels had just been driven out of Middle- 
town, and the cannon was roaring beyond Catoctin 
Creek; but it was evident to the general that no 
pitched battle could take place that day. He wanted 
certain information, which he thought Captain 
Somers was smart enough to procure for him. A 
map lay on the table in the tent, and in a few tell- 
ing words he explained what he wanted. 


FIGHTING JOE 


37 


“Don’t be rash, Somers,” said he, as the aide-de- 
camp rose to depart. “Intelligent courage is what 
we want. I shall depend upon you for skill and 
discretion as well as dash and boldness.” 

“I will do the best I can,” replied the captain, as 
he left the tent and mounted his horse. 

He dashed off towards Middletown, as the army 
commenced its march in the same direction. He 
reached this place before noon, and agreeably to 
his instructions, pursued a northerly course until 
he reached a point beyond the active operations of 
Pleasanton’s cavalry, which was scouring the coun- 
try. Leaving his horse at a farmhouse, he ad- 
vanced on foot to the westward of the creek, until 
he discovered the outposts of the rebel army. Small 
squads of Confederate cavalry were beating about 
this region, and Somers was obliged to dodge them 
several times. But he obtained his information, 
and fully acquainted himself with the nature of the 
country and the situation of the rebels to the north 
of the Cumberland road. 

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when he 
had completed his reconnaissance, and he was near- 
ly exhausted by the long walk he had taken and 
the excitement of his occupation. He was at least 
two miles from the farmhouse where he had left 
his horse. He had eaten nothing since breakfast, 
and he was faint for the want of food. He walked 
one mile, and stopped to rest near an elegant man- 


38 


FIGHTING JOE 


sion, which evidently belonged to one of the gran- 
dees of Maryland. He was tempted to visit the 
house and procure some refreshment; but, as he 
was alone, and knew nothing of the political status 
of the occupants, he did not deem it prudent to 
do so. 

After resting a short time, he rose and con- 
tinued his weary walk towards the farmhouse. As 
he passed the door of the elegant mansion, a chaise 
stopped at the gate, and a young officer handed a 
lady from the vehicle. A servant led the horse 
away. The lady paused at the gate, and appeared 
to be observing him. Somers could think of no 
reason why the lady should watch him, and he con- 
tinued on his course till he came within a few feet 
of the spot where she stood. 

“Captain Somers!” exclaimed she. “I am de- 
lighted to see you again so soon.” 

“Miss Hasbrouk!” replied he, not a little sur- 
prised to find in her his rebel friend, whom he had 
met in Frederick the preceding evening. 

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” added she, ex- 
tending her hand, which the young man took. 

“I should hardly have expected to meet you at 
this distance from Frederick.” 

“Oh, I reside here; this is my father’s house. 
You are some distance from the Yankee army.” 

“As you are a rebel, it is hardly proper for me 
to inform you why I happen to be here,” laughed 


FIGHTING JOE 39 

he. “I am an invalid, and am walking for my 
health.” 

“It is well you are away from your army, for 
they will all be captured in a few days.” 

“Perhaps not; but I shall be with the army be- 
fore night.” 

“This is Major Riggleston,” said she, turning 
to the gentleman, who had followed the servant 
to the stable, and had just returned. 

“How do you do, again, major?” said Somers. 

“Happy to meet you. Captain Somers,” replied 
the major, not very cordially. 

“Now, you must come into the house. Captain 
Somers. It is just dinner-time with us,” continued 
the lady. 

Somers was too faint and hungry to refuse. 


CHAPTER IV 


MISS MAUD HASBROUK 

The lady conducted Captain Somers to the sit- 
ting-room of the house. He was followed by 
Major Riggleston, who, judging by his looks and 
actions, regarded the staff officer with no special 
favor. Miss Hasbrouk did all the talking, how- 
ever, and seemed to do it for the purpose of keep- 
ing the major in the shade, for she carefully turned 
aside two or three observations he made, as though 
they were of no consequence, or as though they 
might provoke an unpleasant discussion. 

“I am particularly delighted to meet you again. 
Captain Somers,” said the imperial beauty, as they 
entered the apartment. 

“Thank you,” replied he, though he could see 
no good reason why Miss Maud Hasbrouk should 
be particularly delighted to see him. 

He was a Union man and a loyal soldier, while 
she was a rebel, with strength of mind enough to 
regret that her sex compelled her to be a non- 
combatant. She was a magnificent creature, even 
40 


FIGHTING JOE 


41 


to Somers, whose knowledge of the higher order 
of beauties that float about in the mists of fashion- 
able society was very limited. She was fascinating, 
and he could not resist the charm of her society; 
albeit in the present instance he was too much ex- 
hausted by ill health and over-exertion to be very 
brilliant himself. 

“This is very unexpected, considering the dis- 
tance from the place at which I met you last even- 
ing,’’ said he. 

“Oh, it isn’t a very great distance to Frederick. 
The major drove me over in three hours,” replied 
she. 

“Three and a half, Maud,” interposed the 
major, apparently because he felt the necessity o«f 
saying something to avoid being regarded as a 
mere cipher. 

“How do you feel to-day, after the little brush 
we had yesterday, major?” added Somers, turning 
to the gentleman. 

“What brush do you refer to?” asked Major 
Riggleston, rather coldly. 

“The little rub we had with the guerillas.” 

“Really, you have ” 

“Now, gentlemen, will you excuse me for a few 
moments?” said Miss Hasbrouk, very impolitely 
breaking in upon the major’s remark. 

“Certainly,” replied Somers, with his politest 
bow. “You arc a fighting man. Major Riggleston, 


42 


FIGHTING JOE 


and the affair of yesterday was pretty sharp work 
for a few minutes.” 

“Of course Fm a fighting man; but ” 

“Major, you promised me something, you will 
remember,” said the lady, who still lingered in the 
room, “and now is the best time in the world to 
redeem your promise.” 

“What do you mean, Maud?” demanded the 
major. 

“Why, don’t you remember?” 

“Upon my life, I don’t.” 

“Perhaps Captain Somers will excuse you for a 
few moments, while I refresh your memory.” 

“Certainly, to be sure,” added the polite staff 
officer. 

He moved towards the door at which the lady 
stood. Somers saw her whisper something to him 
as she took him familiarly by the arm. 

“Oh, yes, I remember all about it now!” ex- 
claimed he, with sudden vivacity. “I will return 
in a few moments. Captain Somers, if you will ex- 
cuse me.” 

“By all means; don’t let me interfere with any 
arrangement you have made.” 

They retired, and the door closed behind them. 
Somers was not a little befogged by the conduct of 
both the lady and the gentleman. Several times 
she had interrupted him, and the major had an 
astonishingly bad memory. He seemed not to re- 


FIGHTING JOE 


4S 


member even the skirmish on the road; and he 
was equally unmindful of what had passed between 
him and the lady at some period antecedent to the 
present. 

They were quite intimate, and, slightly versed as 
the young officer was in affairs of love and matri- 
mony, he had no difficulty in arriving at the con- 
clusion that the interesting couple who had just ' 
left him were more than friends; and, though he 
had not the skill to determine what particular point 
in the courtship they had reached, he ventured to 
believe they were engaged. Though it was rather 
a rash and unauthorized conclusion, it was a cor- 
rect one, showing that young men know some 
things by intuition. 

Somehow, Major Riggleston did not appear ex- 
actly as he had appeared the preceding day. His 
uniform did not look quite so bright; his manner 
was more brusque and less polished; and he spoke 
with a heavier and more solid tone. But men are 
not always the same on one day that they arc on 
another, and it was quite probable that the major 
was suffering for the want of his dinner, or from 
some vexation not apparent to the casual observer. 

Somers wanted his dinner — not as an epicure is 
impatient for the feast which is to tickle his palate, 
but as a man who knows and feels that meat is 
strength. His health was not yet sufficiently estab- 
lished to enable him to endure the hardship of an 


FIGHTING JOE 


empty stomach, for his muscles seemed, in his pres- 
ent weak state, to derive their power more directly 
than usual from that important organ. He did 
not, therefore, worry himself to obtain a solution 
of what was singular in the conduct of the lady and 
her lover. 

They were absent but a few moments before the 
major returned. If he had been gone seven years, 
and passed through a Parisian polishing school in 
the interim, his tone and his manner could not have 
been more effectually changed. He looked and 
acted more like the Major Riggleston of yesterday. 
He was all suavity now, and, what was vastly more 
remarkable, his memory was as perfect as though 
he had made mnemonics the study of a lifetime. 
He remembered all about the skirmish on the road, 
and even recalled incidents connected with that 
affair of which Captain Somers was profoundly 
ignorant. 

“Captain Somers, that was the hardest fight for 
a little one I ever happened to be in,’’ said the 
major, after the event had been thoroughly re- 
hearsed. 

“It was sharp for a few moments. By the way, 
major, what is your opinion of Alick now?” asked 
Somers. 

“Well, I was rather surprised to see him go in 
as he did. He is a brave fellow.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


45 


“So he is. I did not know whether he would 
fight or not, but I thought he would.” 

“Oh, I was sure of it.” 

“Were you ? Before the fight you seemed to be 
of the opinion that he was of no account.” 

“That was said concerning niggers in general. 
I always had a great deal of confidence in Alick. 
When he fired his gun I knew what the boy 
meant.” 

“His pistol, you mean; he had no gun.” 

“You are right; it was a pistol,” said the major, 
with more confusion than this trifling inaccuracy 
justified. 

“In the pursuit of the guerillas ” 

“Yes, in the pursuit Alick was splendid,” con- 
tinued Riggleston, taking the words out of Somers’ 
mouth. 

“You forget, major; you conducted the pursuit 
alone,” mildly added the staff officer. 

“Oh, yes, so I did. I am mixing up this matter 
with another affair, in which my boy Mingo chased 
the Yankees ” 

“Chased the what?” interposed Somers, con- 
founded by this singular and inappropriate remark. 

“The guerillas, I said,” laughed the major. 
“What did you think I said?” 

“I understood you to say the Yankees.” 

“Oh, no! Yankees? No; I am one myself. I 
said guerillas.” 


46 


FIGHTING JOE 


“If you did, I misunderstood you.” 

“Of course I didn’t say Yankees. That is quite 
impossible.” 

Somers was disposed to be polite, even at the 
sacrifice of the point of veracity; therefore he did 
not contradict his companion, though he felt en- 
tirely certain in regard to the language used. 

“Of course you could not have meant Yankees, 
whatever you said,” added Somers. 

“Certainly not. Do you know why I didn’t 
catch those — those guerillas?” continued the 
major. 

“I do not,” replied Somers; but he had a strong 
suspicion that it was because he did not want 
to catch them; because it would have been impru- 
dent for him to catch them ; because it would have 
been in the highest degree dangerous for him to 
catch them. 

“I’ll tell you why I didn’t catch them,” added 
the major, rubbing his hands as a man does when 
he has a point to make. “It was because their 
horses went faster than mine.” 

“Good!” exclaimed Somers, who had the judg- 
ment to perceive that this answer was intended as 
a joke, and who was politic enough to render the 
homage due to such a tremendous effort — a laugh 
as earnest as the circumstances would permit. 

“Or possibly it was because my horse went 
slower than theirs,” added the major, with the evi- 


FIGHTING JOE 4T 

dent design of perpetrating a joke even more stu- 
pendous than the last. 

We beg to suggest to our readers, young and old, 
that a person lays himself open more by his jokes 
his puns and his witticisms than by any other 
means of communication between one soul and an- 
other with which we are acquainted. Hear a man 
talk about business, politics, morality or religion, 
and you have a very inadequate idea of his moral 
and mental resources. Hear him jest, hear him 
make a pun, hear him indulge in a witticism, and 
you have his brains mapped out before you. We 
have heard a man get off a witticism, and felt an 
infinite contempt for him; we have heard a man 
get off a witticism, and felt a profound respect for 
him. It is not the thing said; it is not the manner 
in which it is said; it is not the look with which it 
is said. It is airthree combined. He who would 
conceal himself from those around him should 
neither get drunk nor attempt to be funny. 

Major Riggleston had revealed himself to Cap- 
tain Somers more completely in that unguarded 
joke than in all that had passed between them be- 
fore. The young staff officer was not a moral nor 
a mental philosopher; but that agonizing jest had 
given him a poorer opinion of his companion than 
he had before entertained. It was fortunate for 
the major that Miss Hasbrouk returned before he 
had an opportunity to launch another witticism 


48 


FIGHTING JOE 


upon the sea of the captain’s charity, or the latter 
might have prematurely learned to despise him. 

“We have not lately been honored by the volun- 
tary presence of gentlemen at dinner, Captain Som- 
ers, and you will pardon me for lingering an extra 
moment before my glass,” said the merry lady. 

“Happy glass!” replied Somers. 

“Thank you, captain; that was veryvpretty.” 

“Excellent!” added the major, who seemed to 
be hungering and thirsting for something funny or 
smart. 

A bell rang in the hall, which Somers took to 
be the summons for dinner; and he was thankful, 
and took courage accordingly; for however much 
he enjoyed the society of the fascinating Maud, he 
could not forget that he owed a solemn duty to 
the outraged member of his body corporate, which 
had been kept fasting since an early breakfast- 
hour. 

“Now, gentlemen, shall I have the pleasure of 
conducting you to the dining-room?” continued 
Miss Hasbrouk. 

“Thank you.” 

“Your arm, if you please. Captain Somers,” said 
the brilliant lady. 

Of course, Somers complied with this reason- 
able request, though he had not been in the habit 
of observing these little courtesies at the cottage in 
Pinchbrook, nor even in some of the best-regulated 


FIGHTING JOE 


49 


families at the Harbor, making no little preten- 
sions to gentility. It seemed to him that it would 
have been more proper, in the present instance, and 
with the supposed relation between them, for the 
lady to take the arm of the gentleman to whom she 
was engaged; but he had not very recently read 
any book on the etiquette of good society, and he 
was utterly unable to settle the difficult question. 

They passed through the hall and entered the 
dining-room. The table was laid for only three, 
and while Somers was wondering where the rest of 
the family were, a tremendous knocking was heard 
at the front door. 

“Somebody is in earnest,” said Maud. “He 
knocks like a sheriff who comes with authority. 
Take this seat, if you please, captain.” 

“Thank you. Miss Hasbrouk,” replied Somers^ 
as he took the appointed place. 

“1 hope that isn’t any one after me,” added the 
major, as he seated himself opposite to Somers. 
“I don’t want to lose my dinner.” 

“You shall not lose it, major,” answered Maud, 
as a colored servant entered the room with a salver 
in his hand, on which lay a letter. 

“For Major Riggleston,” said the man, as he 
presented the salver to him. 

The major took the letter and broke the seal, 
apologizing to Somers for doing so. His eyes sud- 
denly opened wider than their natural spread, and 


50 


FIGHTING JOE 


his chin dropped till mouth and eyes were both 
eloquent with astonishment. He sprang out of his 
chair and assumed an attitude in the highest de- 
gree dramatic. Somers almost expected him to 
perpetrate a witticism. 

“What is it, major?” demanded Maud, who 
seemed to be enduring the most agonizing sus- 
pense. 

“I must go this instant!” exclaimed the major, 
still gazing at the momentous letter. 

“What has happened?” 

“Don’t ask me, Maud,” answered he, in excited 
tones. “I will be back before night, perhaps in an 
hour. You will excuse me. Captain Somers?” 

“Certainly,” replied Somers. 

The major rushed to the door, cramming the 
letter into his pocket, or attempting to do so, as 
he moved off. The document fell on the floor with- 
out the owner’s notice. 

“What can it mean?” said Maud, with a 
troubled look. 

Somers did not know what it meant; if he had, 
it is doubtful whether he would have had the 
temerity to stop to dinner. 


CHAPTER V 


THE BOOT ON ONE LEG 

“What can have happened?” said Maud, ap- 
parently musing on the event which had just trans- 
pired. “The major is not often moved so deeply 
as he appeared to be just now.” 

“Something of importance, evidently,” said 
Somers. “He has dropped the letter on the floor.” 

“So he has,” said she, glancing at the document. 
“Thus far I have resisted the propensity of Mother 
Eve to know more than the law allows, and I think 
I will not yield to it now. It would hardly be hon- 
orable for me to read the letter after the major 
had declined to inform me what has occurred. But, 
whatever it may be, we will have some dinner.” 

Whatever opinions Somers may have entertained 
on some of the other points suggested by the fair 
hostess, he had none in regard to the last proposi- 
tion. He was absolutely and heartily in favor of 
the dinner, without regard to Mother Eve’s curi- 
osity, or her favored representative then before 
him. The dinner was a good one, though the 
rebels had so recently gathered up all the provision 
61 


52 


FIGHTING JOE 


which the country appeared to contain. With 
every mouthful he ate, Somers’ strength seemed 
mysteriously to return to him. 

The dinner was not so formal as might have 
been expected in the house of a Maryland grandee, 
and did not occupy over half an hour ; but in that 
half hour he had grown strong and vigorous again, 
and felt equal to any emergency which might oc- 
cur. However agreeable the society of the fasci- 
nating Maud had proved, he began to be very im- 
patient for the moment when he could, without 
outraging the laws of propriety, break the spell 
which bound him. He had faithfully discharged 
his duty to the inner man, and he bethought him 
that he owed another and higher obligation to his 
country; that the commanding general of the first 
army corps was expecting to hear from him, though 
the time given him to complete his mission had not 
yet expired. 

While he was considering some fit excuse with 
which to tear himself away from his interesting 
companion — for it was not prudent to inform an 
avowed rebel lady that he had been engaged in 
collecting information for the use of a Union gen- 
eral and must return to report the result of his 
mission — ^while he was thinking what he should 
say to her, he heard something which sounded mar- 
velously like the tramp of horses’ feet on the walks 
which surrounded the mansion. These sounds 


FIGHTING JOE 


55 


might have been sufficient to create a tempest of 
alarm in his mind if he had not believed that he 
was far enough from the camps of the rebels to 
insure the estate from a visit of their cavalry. He 
did not know exactly where he was in relation to 
the line of either army, but he felt a reasonable as- 
surance that he was out of reach of danger from 
the enemy. 

He listened, therefore, wdth tolerable coolness 
to the clatter of the horses’ feet, and finally con- 
cluded that the animals belonged to the estate. 
This conclusion, however, was soon unpleasantly 
disturbed by other and more suspicious sounds than 
the tramp of horses — sounds like the clatter and 
clang of cavalry equipments. More than this, Maud 
looked anxious and excited, when there appeared 
to be not the least reason for anxiety and excite- 
ment on her part. 

“Won’t you take another peach, captain?” said 
she, glancing uneasily at the window and then at 
the door. 

“No more, I thank you. Miss Hasbrouk,” re- 
plied Somers. “You seem to be having more vis- 
itors.” 

“No, I think not,” answered she, with assumed 
carelessness. 

“What is the meaning of those sounds, then?” 

“They are nothing; perhaps some of the ser- 
vants leading the horses down to the meadow.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Do your horses wear cavalry trappings, Miss 
Hasbrouk?” 

“Not that I am aware of. Do you think there is 
any cavalry around the house?” 

“I am decidedly of that opinion, and, with your 
permission, I will step out and learn the occasion 
of this visit,” said he, rising from the table, and 
making sure that the two revolvers he wore in his 
belt were in working order. 

“I beg you will not leave me. Captain Somers,” 
remonstrated Maud. 

“I only wish to ascertain what the cavalry are.” 

“I depend upon you for protection, captain,” 
said she, as she rose from her seat at the table. 
“Ah, here comes some one, who will explain it all 
to you,” she added, as the front door was heard to 
open rather violently. 

“I think it won’t need much explanation,” re- 
plied Somers, as through the window he discov- 
ered two gray-back cavalrymen. “It is quite evi- 
dent that the house is surrounded by rebel cavalry.” 

At this moment the door of the dining-room 
opened and Major Riggleston stalked into the 
apartment. He looked at Somers, and then at the 
lady. The troubled, astonished expression on his 
face when he went away had disappeared, and he 
wore what the staff officer could not help interpret- 
ing as a smile of triumph. 

“Well, Maud, how is it now?” asked the major, 


FIGHTING JOE 


55 


as for the sixth time, at least, he glanced from 
Somers to her. 

The brilliant beauty made no reply to this indefi- 
nite question. Instead of speaking as a civilized 
lady should when addressed by her accepted lover, 
she threw herself into a chair with an abandon 
which would have been creditable in a first lady in 
a first-class comedy, but which was highly discred- 
itable in a first-class lady discharging only the 
duties of the social amenities in refined society. 
She threw herself into a chair, and laughed as 
though she had been suddenly seized with a fit of 
that playful species of hysterics which manifests 
itself in the cachinnatory tendency of the patient. 

Somers was surprised. A less susceptible person 
than himself would have been surprised to see an 
elegant and accomplished lady laugh so violently, 
when there was apparently nothing In the world to 
laugh at. He could not understand It; a wiser and 
more experienced person than Somers could not 
understand it. He knew about CEdipus, and the 
Sphinx’s riddle which he solved; but If GEdIpus 
had been there. In that mansion of a Maryland 
grandee, Somers would have defied him to solve 
the riddle of Miss Maud Hasbrouk’s inordinate, 
excessive, hysterical laughter. If Major Rlggle- 
ston, from the great repository of unborn humor 
in his subtle brain, had launched forth one of the 
most tremendous of his thunderbolts of wit, the 


56 


FIGHTING JOE 


mystery would have solved itself. If the major 
had uttered anything but the most commonplace 
and easily interpreted remark, Somers might have 
believed that he had perpetrated a joke which he 
was not keen enough to perceive. 

The house was surrounded by rebel cavalry ; that 
was no joke to him; it could be no joke to the 
major, for he was an officer in the Maryland Home 
Brigade, “on detached service,” and what proved 
dangerous or fatal to one must prove dangerous or 
fatal to the other. But Riggleston did not seem in 
the least disturbed by the circumstance that the 
house was environed by Confederate cavalry. He 
stood looking at his lady-love, as though he was 
waiting her next move in the development of the 
game. 

“What are you laughing at, Maud?” asked he, 
when he had watched her until his own patience 
was somewhat tried, and that of Somers had be- 
come decidedly shaky. 

“Isn’t it funny?” gasped she, struggling for 
utterance between the spasms of laughter. 

“Yes, it is, very funny,” replied he, obediently, 
though it was quite plain that he did not regartl 
the scene as so excruciatingly amusing as the lady 
did. 

“Why don’t you laugh, then?” 

“I would, if I had time; but I must proceed to 
business.” 


FIGHTING JOE 57 

“Don’t spoil the scene yet,” said she, with diffi- 
culty. 

“Hurry it up, then, Maud.” 

“Captain Somers,” added she, repressing her 
laughter to a more reasonable limit, “I am your 
most obedient servant.” 

“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk,” replied he, begin- 
ning to apprehend, for the first time, that he was 
individually and personally responsible for the joke 
which had so excited the lady’s risibles. “If you 
are, you will oblige me by informing me what you 
are laughing at.” 

The lady broke forth anew, and peal on peal of 
laughter rang through the room. Somers tried to 
think what he had said or done that was so astound- 
ingly funny, satisfied that his humor would certain- 
ly make his fortune when given a wider field of 
operations. It was evident that it would not do 
for him to be as funny as he could thereafter in 
the presence of ladies, or one of them might yet 
die of hysterics. 

“Do you really wish to know what I am laugh- 
ing at. Captain Somers?” asked she, at another 
brief interval of apparent sanity. 

“That is what I particularly desire.” 

“I am laughing at the situation. Do you know 
that there is something irresistibly ludicrous in- 
situations, captain? I delight in situations — funny 
situations, I mean.” 


58 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Really, I don’t see anything very amusing in 
the present situation,” replied the puzzled staff 
officer. 

“Don’t you, indeed? Well, I’m afraid you 
won’t appreciate the situation from your stand- 
point. What a pity we haven’t a photographer to 
give us the scene, for future inspection !” 

“Well, Miss Hasbrouk, you seem to be making 
yourself very merry at my expense. I am happy 
to have afforded you so much amusement; but I 
fear I am still your debtor for the bountiful hospi- 
tality of your house.” 

“Don’t mention it, captain; and you won’t wish 
to mention it a few hours hence.” 

“I assure you I shall ever gratefully remember 
your kindness to me.” 

“Perhaps not,” laughed the maiden. 

“Captain Somers,” interposed the major, “I 
think we have carried the joke far enough, and we 
will now proceed to the serious part of the busi- 
ness. In one word, you ” 

“Stop, Major Riggleston, if you please,” inter- 
rupted Maud. “This is my affair.” 

“Hurry it along a little faster, then, if you will, 
Maud. The people outside will get tired of 
waiting.” 

“Don’t you interfere, major. You forget that 
you are a Union officer, belonging to the Maryland 


FIGHTING JOE 


59 


Home Brigade. Captain Somers insists that you 
are, and of course you are.” 

“Of course I am; I had almost forgotten that 
little circumstance,” laughed the major. 

“Well, Miss Hasbrouk, since you Tire to man- 
age the affair, I will thank you to inform me what 
it all means,” demanded Somers, with the least 
evidence of impatience in his tones. 

“With the greatest pleasure; with a pleasure 
which you cannot yet appreciate, I will inform you 
all about it. But, my dear Captain Somers, in 
deference to a lady who has admired you, fHed 
you, dined you, you will answer a few questions 
which I shall propose to you, before I proceed to 
the explanation.” 

“Be in haste, Maud,” said the major. 

“Major Riggleston, if you hurry me, I shall be 
obliged to ask you to leave the room,” answered 
she, with a resumption of the imperial dignity she 
had partially abandoned. 

“Fm dumb, Maud.” 

“Keep so, then. Now, Captain Somers, you are 
one of the heroes of the Yankee army, a down-east 
pink of chivalry. At Petersburg you were within 
the Confederate lines doing duty as a spy. First 
question : Is this so ? 

“That would be for a rebel court-martial to 
prove, if I should happen to be captured.” 

“First question evaded. Taking advantage of 


60 


FIGHTING JOE 


the hospitality and kindness of Dr. Scoville, who 
had pledged his honor that you should bo deliv- 
ered up to the proper authorities as soon as you 
were able to be moved, you escaped from his cus- 
tody. Second question: Is this true?” 

“I was under no pledge, and was not paroled.” 

“Second question evaded. You are on the staff 
of the general of the first army corps, and you have 
been sent out to procure information. Third ques- 
tion : Is this true ?” 

“You have said it, not 1.” 

“Third question evaded. By your own con- 
fession, made to me yesterday, within the Federal 
lines, you are a spy. You have resorted to certain 
Yankee tricks to escape the penalty of your mis- 
deeds. Now — fourth question: Would it not be 
fair to capture you by resorting to a trick such as 
those you have practiced?” 

“It would depend on the trick.” 

“Fourth question evaded. You have abused the 
sacred rites of hospitality at the mansion of Dr. 
Scoville, in Virginia. Should you regard it as any- 
thing more — fifth question — than diamond cut dia- 
m.ond if you should be captured in Maryland by a 
similar abuse of the sacred rites of hospitality?” 

“That would depend on circumstances.” 

“Fifth question evaded. All of them evaded, as 
I supposed all of them would be ; for a Yankee can 


FIGHTING JOE 61 

no more avoid prevarication than he can avoid 
talking through his nose.” 

“Thank you for the handsome compliment. I 
cannot forget that I am talking to a lady, and 
therefore I can make no answer,” replied Somers, 
with gentle dignity, as he bowed to the tormentor. 

“That is more than I expected of a Yankee,” 
said Maud, a slight flush upon her fair cheek assur- 
ing her victim that his rebuke had been felt. “I 
am a lady; but, before the lady, I am the Confed- 
erate woman, having a cause dearer to my heart 
than anything save only a woman’s honor.” 

She spoke proudly, and her head rested with 
imperial grandeur on her neck as she uttered her 
impressive words. 

“Now, Captain Somers, you understand my posi- 
tion, and you understand your own position,” she 
continued. “I invited you to dine with me for a 
purpose. That purpose is now reached. The house 
is surrounded by Confederate cavalry. Captain 
Somers, you are a prisoner I” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG 

Long before the imperial, and now imperious, 
lady announced the conclusion of the whole mat- 
ter, Somers realized that he was the victim of a 
conspiracy; that he had been invited to dinner in 
order to procure his capture. He had listened to 
the fallacious argument embodied in the five ques- 
tions, and was prepared to refute it if occasion re- 
quired. He had no difficulty in perceiving that he 
had got into trouble. The house was surrounded 
by a squad of rebel cavalry, and it would be folly 
to attempt to fight his way through them. 

Nevertheless, Somers had coolly and decisively 
made up his mind not to be a prisoner. He had 
been invited into the house under the guise of 
friendship. The lady had pretended to cherish an 
excellent feeling, amounting almost to admiration, 
towards him ; had treated him as a friend, and de- 
tained him until the cavalry could be sent for. The 
trap had been set, and he had certainly fallen into 
it. The circumstances were not at all like those 


FIGHTING JOE 


63 


under which he had entered the house of Dr. Sco- 
ville; he had not been invited there; he had gone 
in as a hunted fugitive; and the host had received 
and taken care of him without any pledge, ex- 
pressed or implied, on his part, or that of Captain 
de Banyan, who accompanied him. His conscience, 
therefore, did not reproach him for any violation 
of the law of hospitality. 

“You are a prisoner. Captain Somers, I repeat,” 
said Maud — “my prisoner, if you please.” 

“Miss Hasbrouk, I have always cherished a feel- 
ing of admiration and regard for the ladies ; but I 
regret, in the present instance, to be compelled to 
contradict you. I am not a prisoner, if you will 
excuse me for saying so,” replied Somers, calmly. 

“The house is surrounded by Confederate cav- 
alry,” added she. “It only remains for me to call 
them in and end this scene.” 

“Allow me to observe that the part which re- 
mains will be infinitely more difficult than the part 
already performed.” 

“Am I to understand, Captain Somers, that you 
propose to resist twenty men, who stand ready to 
capture you?” demanded the lady, with a trium- 
phant smile. 

“Excuse me if I evade that question also for the 
present. Perhaps you will still further pardon me 
if, in this delicate and difficult business, I venture 


64 


FIGHTING JOE 


to ask you a few questions, which you will answer 
or evade, as you please.” 

‘‘With great pleasure I submit to be questioned, 
Captain Somers,” answered she, with a merry twin- 
kle in her eyes, which told how much she still 
enjoyed the “situation.” 

“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk. You are one of 
those brawling rebel women who have done so 
much to keep up the spirits of the chivalry in this 
iniquitous rebellion. You are one of the feminine 
Don Quixotes who have unsexed themselves in the 
cause of treason and slavery.” 

“I will not hear this, if you will, Maud. Sir!” 
exclaimed the major, advancing towards the bold 
and ungallant speaker, “your foul mouth ” 

“Stand where you are. Major Riggleston!” said 
Somers, fiercely, as he pointed a pistol at his head. 
“If you stir a step, or open your mouth again, you 
are a dead man !” 

The major seemed to be taken all aback by this 
decided demonstration. He had no pistol about 
him, and, though he was a “fighting man,” Somers 
was pretty well satisfied that he would “hold still” 
until it was safe for him to move. Judging from 
her looks, Maud seemed to be taking a slightly dif- 
ferent view of the situation. 

“Excuse my rude words. Miss Hasbrouk,” con- 
tinued the captain, with a gentle inclination of the 
head. “As this is your affair, I will thank this 


FIGHTING JOE 65 

gentleman not to interfere. Shall I repeat what I 
said before?” 

“It is not necessary,” replied she, coldly. 

“Then we will proceed. First question: Did I 
correctly state your position?” 

“Is a woman who strengthens the hearts of those 
who are fighting for the right to exist ” 

“First question evaded,” interposed Somers. 
“You invited me to this house, and by the laws of 
hospitality, which even the heathen respect, you 
were impliedly pledged to treat me as a friend, and 
not as a foe. Second question: Is this so?” 

“Did you learn to respect the law of hospitality 
at Dr. Scoville’s ?” sneered she. 

“Second question evaded. Dr. Scoville made no 
pledges to me, nor I to him. No person can blame 
me for leaving his house when I got ready. Ac- 
cepting his hospitality and his kindness did not 
pledge me to go to a Confederate dungeon, where 
prisoners are systematically murdered. To pro- 
ceed: By your own confession you invited me to 
dine in order to make me a prisoner, and take my 
life by having me hanged as a spy. If you sought 
to capture me by a trick, would it not — third ques- 
tion — be equally fair for me to escape by a trick?” 

“But it is utterly impossible for you to escape,” 
replied she, glancing through the window at the 
cavalry on the lawn. 

“Third question evaded. You are a lady, and as 


66 


FIGHTING JOE 


such, under ordinary circumstances, you are entitled 
to be treated with the delicacy and consideration 
due to your sex. But as you have ceased to be a 
non-combatant — which you were sorely against 
your will, and are now actively engaged in the war, 
conducting the business of capturing a prisoner — 
under these circumstances, would it not be entirely 
fair for me to treat you as a combatant, precisely 
the same as though you had not unsexed yourself, 
and were a man?” 

“You seem to have already forgotten what is^ 
due to a lady,” replied she, her cheek flushed with 
anger. 

“Fourth question evaded.” 

“Sir, I decline to hear any more of this coarse 
abuse !” exclaimed she, stamping her foot. 

“Indulge me for one moment more, and I will 
endeavor as much as possible to avoid talking 
through my nose, and making pretensions as a hero 
of the Yankee army, or a down-east pink of chiv- 
alry.” 

Perhaps the imperial beauty thought that these 
expressions, borrowed from her own elegant dis- 
course, were not especially refined for a lady to use ; 
it may be that they sounded coarse on a repetition, 
but she made no acknowledgment to that effect. 

“Your silence consents: thank you. Miss Has- 
brouk, you speak with chivalrous contempt of what 
you are pleased to term ‘Yankee tricks’; at the 


FIGHTING JOE 


67 


same time, you were thrown into spasms of laugh- 
ter by the apparent success of one of your own 
tricks. Now, permit me to ask whether you would 
equally appreciate — fifth question — a trick quite as 
smart as your own?” 

“You have insulted me long enough, sir!” re- 
plied she, haughtily. “Now, sir ” 

“Fifth question evaded. I have no more to ask.” 

“Now, sir, I will hand you over to your mas- 
ters,” said she, moving a step towards the door. 

“Excuse me if I take the liberty to decline being 
handed over to my masters,” said Somers, stepping 
between her and the door, and now occupying a 
position between the lady and the discomfited 
major. 

“Sir, what ^o you mean?” demanded the lady, 
her bosom heaving with angry emotions, as she 
found herself confronted by the young ofEcer, who 
looked as firm and immovable as a mountain of 
granite. 

“I mean all that I say, and much more,” an- 
swered he, with an emphasis which she could not 
fail to understand. 

“Sir, I desire to pass out at that door.” 

“I positively forbid your passing out at that 
door.” 

“Sir!” gasped she, almost overcome by her an- 
gry passions. 

“Miss Hasbrouk!” replied he, bowing. 


FIGHTING JOE 


“You are no gentleman!” 

“When I came here I regarded you as a lady, 
and one of the brightest ornaments of your sex. 
What I think now I shall keep to myself.” 

“I shall go mad!” 

“I hope not; though I fear you have been tend- 
ing in that direction for the last hour.” 

“Major Riggleston!” cried she, turning to her 
lover, “will you stand there and permit me to be 
insulted in this manner?” 

“Major Riggleston will stand there. If he moves 
hand or foot, or opens his mouth to speak, I will 
blow his brains out. He is a villain and a traitor, 
and of course he is a coward !” 

The major winced under these strong words; but 
there was death in the sharp, snapping eye of the 
young officer, and he dared not move hand or foot, 
or even speak. Perhaps he thought that, as the 
lady had insisted on managing the affair herself, it 
was quite proper that she should be indulged to the 
end. 

“I can endure this no longer!” exclaimed Maud, 
as she took another step towards the door for the 
purpose of calling in the troopers. 

“Stop, Miss Hasbrouk!” said Somers, pointing 
a pistol at her head with his right hand, while that 
in his left was ready to dispose of the major. 

“Is it possible that you can raise your weapon 


FIGHTING JOE 69 

against a woman?” cried she, shrinking back from 
the gaping muzzle of the pistol. 

“Let us understand each other, Miss Hasbrouk. 
I am not to be captured. If you attempt to leave 
the room, or call in the rebel soldiers, I will shoot 
you — as gently and considerately as the deed can 
be done ; but I will shoot you, as surely as you stand 
there and I stand here.” 

He cocked the pistol. She heard the click of 
the hammer. She stood in mortal terror of her 
life. 

“You forget that I am a woman,” said she, in 
tones of alarm. 

“I did not forget it until you had forgotten It 
yourself,” answered Somers. “You have abused 
and insulted me. Under the guise of friendship 
you are attempting to hand me over to death by 
my enemies. Did you think I would be dropped 
gently into the arms of the rebels, and be hung as 
a spy? If you insist on pursuing your plan to the 
end, it will be death to you or death to me. I am 
not quite willing to die for any rebel woman, and 
especially not for one who is seeking my life. It 
would grieve me to shoot one so fair and fascinat- 
ing as Miss Hasbrouk; I should remember it with 
sorrow to the end of my days ; but my duty to my- 
self and my country requires the sacrifice, and I 
would shoot you if it broke my heart.” 

“Are you In earnest. Captain Somers?” asked 


IfO FIGHTING JOE 

she, still struggling under the violence of her emo- 
tions. 

“Maud!” said the major. 

“Silence, sir!” added the captain, sternly. “Miss 
Hasbrouk, I am in earnest. The situation has 
changed. Would you like a photographer to pre- 
serve the scene for future inspection?” 

“You would not kill me?” 

“I would, as you would kill me.” 

“But the soldiers are impatient outside, and they 
may come in without my call,” suggested she, glan- 
cing at the window, while every muscle in her 
frame shook with terror. 

“If they do, it will cost you your life, unless tl\ey 
are more reasonable than you are.” 

“Good Heaven! You mean to murder me?” 

“Not if I can help it. When I fire, it will be 
from a solemn sense of duty, for your cutthroats 
would hang me to the nearest tree if they knew as 
much of me as you do.” 

“What shall I do?” asked she, wildly, as she 
looked around the room. 

“Now you are reasonable. Let your servant 
bring pen, ink and paper.” 

She ordered the man who had waited on the 
table to bring the required articles, and Somers 
gave him a charge to be discreet as he left the 
room. In a few moments he returned with the 
writing materials and laid them on the table. The 


FIGHTING JOE 


71 


negro was even more terrified than the lady, and 
there was no fear that he would venture upon any 
bold enterprise. 

“Now, Major Riggleston, sit down at the table,” 
said Somers. “You will remain where you are, 
Miss Hasbrouk.” 

“You will write what I dictate. Did you call 
this cavalry?” 

“I did.” 

“Then you are a loyal Marylander with a ven- 
geance, and a worthy officer of the Maryland 
Home Brigade; but I will warrant there is not 
another such a scoundrel in the organization.” 

“That is a personal insult, for which ” 

“Silence, sir ! Who commands the cavalry out- 
side?” 

“A sergeant.” 

“How many men has he?” 

“Twenty.” 

“Now write : ‘Sergeant — The matter upon which 
I called you was all a mistake. Your services will 
not be required, and you will retire from the house 
without delay.’ Sign it as you please.” 

Somers looked over his shoulder to satisfy him- 
self that the major wrote what he said, and noth- 
ing else. 

“It is possible we may get through this business 
without shooting either one of you,” added the 


72 


FIGHTING JOE 


captain, as the scribe folded up the note. “Give 
the paper to the servant.” 

“Go to the front door, boy, and deliver this note 
to the sergeant in command of the squad of cav- 
alry,” continued Somers. 

“Yes, sar.” 

“Stop a moment. You are not to say a word to 
him.” 

“No, sar.” 

“If one of those soldiers should come into the 
house, it might cost your mistress her life.” 

“De Lo’d forbid, massa !” 

“Do you understand me, boy?” 

“Yes, sar. Dey sha’n’t come in, massa, nohow.” 

He departed on his mission. Somers still stood 
in the attitude for action, and Maud and the major 
looked as cheap and as chapfallen as though they 
had not another hope in the world. They waited 
with even more impatience than the captain for the 
departure of the cavalry, both of them fearing that 
some unfortunate accident might bring the des- 
perate young man to the execution of his horrible 
threat. 

The sergeant outside was, luckily, not of an in- 
quiring mind. The clatter of horses’ feet and the 
clanking of sabers was heard again, and the cav- 
alry dashed down the road to more hopeful scenes. 


CHAPTER VII 


SOUTH MOUNTAIN 

Somers returned the pistols to his belt as he 
listened to the sounds of the retreating cavalry. 
This action on his part seemed to afford Maud and 
the major an immense relief. Death no longer 
stared them in the face, and both of them began 
to grow bold again. 

“Now, Major Riggleston, when you see your 
uncle. Dr. Scoville, again, you will have a story to 
tell him,” said Somers. 

“I shall not be likely to tell him of it.” 

“I think we have obtained some new ideas con- 
cerning the Yankees to-day,” added Maud, spite- 
fully. “I had supposed their making war on wom- 
en and children was merely a poetic figure, but it 
appears to be literally true.” 

“Pray, am I to regard you as a woman or a child, 
Miss Hasbrouk?” asked Somers; “or as both?” 

“I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you 
hanged 1” exclaimed she, with compressed lips. 

“That’s the sentiment of a woman, rather than 
a child,” laughed Somers. 

73 


7^5 


FIGHTING JOE 


“How long before we shall be rid of your pres- 
ence, Captain Somers?” 

“How long will it take your servants to bring up 
the horse and chaise in which I saw you arrive ?” 

“Not ten minutes; if that will facilitate your 
departure, the chaise shall be brought up instant- 
ly,” replied she, directing the waiter present to give 
the stable boys the necessary orders. 

“Thank you. Miss Hasbrouk. May I trouble 
you also to get ready to accompany me?” 

“Accompany you, sir !” 

“I do not regard myself as entirely safe yet,” 
replied the staff officer, taking one of the pistols 
from his belt. “Before I am out of sight, my 
friend the major may feel justified in calling for 
the cavalry again.” 

“They are five miles off, or will be by the time 
you have started,” said the major. 

“I think not. When I fall among people who 
are as sharp as you are, I always use extraordinary 
precautions. It is part of my purpose that you 
should go with us, my dear major.” 

“Go where?” demanded the traitor, intensely 
alarmed. 

“I will not trouble the lady to go any farther 
than the farmhouse where I left my horse. In re- 
gard to yourself, I shall have to insist upon your 
going with me to headquarters.” 

“Why so?” 


FIGHTING JOE 


75 


‘‘You are a traitor of the blackest stamp, and it 
is quite proper that you should be attended to be- 
fore you have done any more mischief.” 

“You are quite mistaken, Captain Somers. I 


“I will pledge myself not to prevent your es- 
cape,” interposed Maud, apparently unwilling that 
the major should say too much. 

“Excuse me if, after what has happened, I de- 
cline to trust you.” 

“This is insolent, sir.” 

“It is open to that construction, I admit,” said 
Somers, as he picked up the letter which the major 
had read with so much astonishment. 

It was a blank sheet, but the direction on the 
outside was in a lady’s handwriting, evidently 
Maud’s. It was nothing but a “blind,” to afford 
a reasonable pretense for the major’s sudden de- 
parture. Somers put it in his pocket for future 
reference. 

“The chaise is ready, captain,” said Maud. 

“So am I ; but you are not.” 

“My hat and shawl are in the entry,” she re- 
plied, sullenly. 

They passed out of the house when she had 
robed herself for the ride. Somers assisted her 
into the vehicle. 

“Where is the major?” asked he, turning to the 
spot where he had stood a moment before. Maud’s 


76 


FIQHTING JOE 

reply was a silvery laugh, which was a sufficient 
explanation that he had taken himself off. 

“So much the better,” said Somers. “Good- 
afternoon, Miss Hasbrouk,” he added, as he 
walked rapidly up the road, in the direction of the 
farmhouse. 

She was so surprised by this sudden and unex- 
pected change in the programme that she could 
make no reply. She did not know whether the 
movement boded good or ill; whether the captain 
had gone in pursuit of the major, or to the place 
where he had left his horse. 

Somers, when he discovered that the major had 
escaped him, was afraid to trust himself in the fam- 
ily chaise, which would too surely betray his move- 
ments to a pursuing force, if the traitor could find 
one in the vicinity. He decided that it would be 
safer for him to walk, and then he could avoid the 
public road if it became necessary for him to do so. 
Though he would have been glad to hand the 
treacherous scoundrel over to the military authori- 
ties for punishment as a deserter, or for giving 
aid and comfort to the enemy, he would have 
been a great encumbrance to him on the road. As 
events often happen for the best, he consoled him- 
self with the belief that the traitor’s escape was not 
the worst thing that could have occurred. 

He walked rapidly till he obtained his horse. 
Whatever his late friends had done to secure his 


FIGHTING JOE 


77 


capture, he was not molested on the road, nor did 
he discover any pursuers behind him. His horse 
was fresh, after the long rest he had had, and 
Somers rode at a breakneck gait till he reached the 
headquarters of the general. On the way, after 
he had carefully arranged in his mind the informa- 
tion he had obtained, he could not help thinking 
over the exciting events of the afternoon. Major 
Riggleston’s conduct was very strange. On the 
preceding day he had been a loyal soldier; now he 
was apparently in full sympathy with the rebels. 
It was a sudden change, if it was a change at all. 

But the major, like a lobster, had a lady in his 
head, and it was quite impossible to tell what the 
major or a lobster would do with a lady in his 
head. Somers had met the beauty at the house of 
Mr. Riggleston in Frederick. They had ridden 
over to her home that morning in a chaise, and the 
best solution which he could give of the matter 
was that Maud had converted him from one side 
to the other. As this seemed to be a satisfactory 
explanation of the singular conduct of the fighting 
man, he was satisfied with it, and gave the subject 
no further consideration. 

His ride was not so long as it had been in the 
morning, for the army had advanced some miles, 
and at sundown Somers reported his information 
to the general. He also told his story about the 
attempt which had been made to capture him, and 


FIGHTING JOE 


78 

in the course of his narrative involved the loyal 
major of the Maryland Home Brigade in trouble 
and dishonor. The general was not a little amused 
at the story, and hoped other officers who were 
invited to dinner by fair rebel ladies, and then en- 
trapped, would resort to similar strategy. But the 
information which Somers brought was the most 
interesting and valuable part of the proceeds of 
his trip, and the general was soon busy in the study 
of his maps in the new light he had obtained. 

The next day was Sunday; but it was not the 
quiet Sabbath of the soul that rests the body and 
renews the spirit’s waning hope; it was a day of 
storm and battle — a day of death and destruction. 
Somers performed his first staff duty in the field on 
this occasion. During the forenoon the artillery 
thundered along the range of the South Mountain. 
The enemy was posted on the steeps, and all along 
the side of the mountain, on both sides of the Cum- 
berland road, which is the direct route to the upper 
Potomac. Beyond the hills were the wagon and 
ammunition trains of the rebels, as well as the more 
considerable portion of their army. The posses- 
sion of this road was necessary to their safety, as 
well as to the success of their grand scheme of car- 
rying on a war of invasion. 

The battle was opened by the corps of General 
Reno, next to which in the line of march was the 
first army corps. During the early part of the day 


. FIGHTING JOE 


79 


the action was fought with artillery, and was an 
attempt to dislodge the enemy from the strong posi- 
tion they had taken. The slope of the mountain 
was rugged, consisting of irregular ledges, and the 
whole covered with wood, which grew out of the 
interstices of the rocks, and on the shelves where 
there was earth enough to give life to a tree. In 
these woods and among these rocks the rebels were 
located — infantry and sharpshooters — while their 
cannon were placed in such positions that they com- 
manded all the approaches to the Gap, through 
which the road passed. 

An attack of infantry was ordered, and the gal- 
lant fellows went forward with alacrity to execute 
the command. They rushed boldly up the steeps 
to a stone wall behind which the main line of the 
enemy rested, driving the skirmishers before them. 
Torrents of blood flowed and moistened the soil 
where hundreds of brave fellows gave up their 
lives ; but they won the ground, and held it. The 
rebels fought with desperation, and their generals 
rallied them in vain to do what could not be done. 

Partial successes and partial reverses occurred in 
different parts of the line until noon, when the 
artillery alone was actively engaged. The day was 
not yet Tvon, and hundreds more were to fall on 
the field before the obstinate foe would yield the 
position. 

At two o’clock in the afternoon the head of the 


80 


FIGHTING JOE 


first army corps appeared, which had been ordered 
forward by General McClellan to the support of 
Reno’s hard-pressed forces. As “Fighting Joe” 
appeared before the lines, the utmost enthusiasm 
was manifested by the troops. They cheered him 
as though he had already saved the day. The 
general was examining the ground. His quick eye 
had already grasped the situation. He had been 
ordered by the general commanding to make a feint 
in favor of Burnside’s forces ; but, satisfied that an 
attack on the south side of the road would not be a 
success, he turned his attention to that portion of 
the rebel line at the north of the road, which had 
been reported upon by Captain Somers. 

The general proceeded, as he always did, directly 
to the front. He seemed to know precisely what 
he was about, and to have his force entirely in 
hand. Then he began to send off his orders, and 
the members of his staff were dashing about in 
every direction, till the line was formed. Batteries 
were posted behind the troops, and the shot and 
shell whizzed through the air over the soldiers’ 
heads. The order to advance was given; the line 
moved up the precipitous steeps, and for half an 
hour the battle raged with tremendous fury. 

Somers found every instant of his time occupied, 
as he dashed from one division to another, while 
shot, shell and bullets flew through the air like 
hailstones. Kind Providence protected him again, 


FIGHTING JOE 


81 


as it had done before, and he escaped all injury. 
On marched the victorious line, conquering every 
obstacle, and driving the rebels before them; but 
it was long after dark before the red field was en- 
tirely won and the Union troops were in possession 
of the crests of the mountain. 

“Captain Somers, you have done admirably, and 
fully justified my selection of you for the important 
and difficult position to which you have been as- 
signed.’’ 

Somers bowed, and felt as happy as though he 
had commanded the successful army. 

“One more task to-night, captain. You will ride 
to the headquarters of the army, give my compli- 
ments to General McClellan, and inform him that 
we have carried the position and routed the 
enemy.” 

Somers saluted the general and urged forward 
his weary horse towards Middletown. He found 
the commander-in-chief still in the saddle and de- 
livered his message. He was directed to bear the 
congratulations of General McClellan to the com- 
mander of the first army corps on his success, with 
instructions to follow up the retreating rebels, and 
to employ General Richardson’s division, which 
had been sent forward to report to him, in this 
work, if the condition of his own troops required it. 

Somers made his salute, and was riding off, 
thinking over what had just been said to him, as he 


8 ^ 


FIGHTING JOE 


had learned to do when sent on an errand in his 
childhood. He was fully absorbed in his thoughts^ 
when a voice pronounced his name. 

“Captain Somers, I am glad to see you again,” 
said an officer, urging forward his horse to inter- 
cept him. 

Somers looked at him, and was not a little sur- 
prised, in the darkness of the evening, to recognize 
Major Riggleston, who appeared to be one of the 
numerous staff of the commanding general. Per- 
haps it was fortunate for the messenger that he 
had already faithfully conned his errand, for the 
appearance of the traitor would have forever 
driven it from his mind. 

“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed he, hardly able 
to believe the evidence of his own senses. 

It was plain, after all, that he had not been fully 
converted to the rebel faith by the blandishments 
of the beautiful Maud; but he was occupying a 
worse and more disgraceful position, in Somers^ 
estimation, than to have stood square up with the 
enemies of the country. It was most audacious in 
the major to hail him, after what had occurred at 
the mansion of the Maryland grandee, and Somers 
regarded him not only as a rebel, but as the stupid- 
est rebel he had ever met. 

“The same, my boy,” replied the major, famil- 
iarly. “Ride on, and I will go with you a short 


FIGHTING JOE 83 

distance, to hear the news. They say Reno was 
killed.” 

“I am sorry to say it is true,” replied Somers, 
coldly. 

“He was a brave fellow and a splendid soldier. 
You must have had a warm time over there.” 
“Rather.” 

“You are tired, aren’t you, old fellow? Can’t 
you talk?” 

“Not much to you,” answered Somers, bluntly. 
“To me? Why, what the dickens is the mat- 
ter?” demanded the major, with apparent surprise. 

“The matter, indeed ! How does it happen that 
you are here?” 

“Why shouldn’t I be here, old boy?” 

“After the affair of yesterday ” 

“What affair of yesterday?” 

The major had entirely lost his memory again. 
He had not heard a word about the adventure a( 
the mansion of Maud’s father. 


CHAPTER VIII 


BEFORE THE GREAT BATTLE 

Captain Somers was as thoroughly bewildered 
as he would have been if the mountains around him 
had suddenly commenced dancing a hornpipe, or 
if the trees, horses and men before him had turned 
bottom upwards, and the whole order of nature 
had been reversed. He was entirely satisfied, on 
reflection, that the event of the preceding afternoon 
had been a reality; entirely satisfied that Major 
Riggleston had been a party to the infamous con- 
spiracy by which the fair Maud had sought to cap- 
ture him; and the unblushing impudence of his 
companion in denying it passed his comprehension. 

“I think you must be dreaming. Captain Som- 
ers,” said the major, with a light laugh. 

“Either I am, or you are; I will not pretend to 
say which,” replied Somers, almost convinced by 
the words, and especially by the easy assurance of 
the major, that no attempt had been made to cap- 
ture him ; that no such person as Maud Hasbrouk 
had an existence. 


84 


FIGHTING JOE 


85 


But of course the traitor would deny bis guilt; 
that was to be expected. It was not to be supposed 
that he would engage in such a nefarious scheme as 
that which had been exhibited at the Hasbrouk 
house, and then confess his participation in it. The 
major had actually returned to the Union lines, 
and had the temerity to take his place in the ranks 
of the defenders of the Union, even while he was, 
not only in heart, but openly, engaged in the service 
of treason and rebellion. 

“Now, captain, let us be friends,” continued the 
major; “for it really seems to me that you are dis- 
posed to provoke a quarrel with me.” 

“I cannot be the friend of one who is an enemy 
to his country,” replied Somers, stiffly, and with a 
proper display of dignity. 

“My dear fellow, I don’t understand you.” 

“Don’t understand me. Major Riggleston?” 
Somers began to be stern and savage. 

“Upon my word I do not,” protested the major, 
earnestly. “If you insist on picking a quarrel with 
me, pray tell me what it is all about.” 

“This is all idle talk, sir.” 

“You have accused me of being an enemy to my 
country.” The major began to be slightly indig- 
nant. 

“Most distinctly I accuse you of it.” 

“That’s a grave charge.” 

“I am aware of it; and I speak advisedly when 


86 


FIGHTING JOE 


I make it. If I had met General Lee himself with- 
in our lines, I should not have been more aston- 
ished than I was to see you, after what has hap- 
pened.” 

“Will you be so kind as to tell me what has hap- 
pened?” demanded the accused officer, manifesting 
no little excitement. 

“At no distant day I shall do so before a court- 
martial.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Have you any doubt whatever in regard to my 
meaning?” 

“Upon my word and honor as an officer and a 
gentleman, I have not the remotest idea what you 
mean.” 

“Major Riggleston, if the nature of my mission 
would permit, I would return to the headquarters 
of the commanding general and denounce you as a 
traitor.” 

“Captain Somers, those are words which no man 
can use to me with impunity,” replied the major, 
indignantly. “I shall hold you personally respon- 
sible for them.” 

“I am willing to be held personally responsible 
for what I say,” answered Somers, coolly. “If you 
mean violence by that remark, I shall not be off my 
guard.” 

“Captain Somers, you are a brave man. You 
have proved yourself to be a brave and true man,” 


FIGHTING JOE 


87 


said the major, with more" calmness. “I think you 
are too noble a fellow to vilify me without giving 
me an opportunity to defend myself.” 

“Of course you will have an opportunity to de- 
fend yourself.” 

“You propose to denounce me as a traitor, you 
say?” 

“I do.” 

“You are aware that the people of my State are 
divided on the grave question that now disturbs the 
country ; consequently, a charge, however weak and 
unfounded, against me, would find plenty of be- 
lievers. I have enemies. All I demand is fair 
play.” 

“You shall have it, major; for, deeply as you 
have injured me, or attempted to injure me, I as- 
sure you I bear no personal ill will towards you.” 

“Thank you for so much; but you say I have 
attempted to injure you. I am not conscious of 
any such attempt.” 

“Major Riggleston, this is all idle talk while you 
assume that position — while you pretend to be ig- 
norant of the matter with which I charge you ; and 
I must decline holding any further intercourse with 
you at present. Let me add, however, that I will 
not make charges until you are present to defend 
yourself.” 

“So far your conduct is honorable; if you would 


88 


FIGHTING JOE 


go a step farther, and state distinctly with what you 
charge me, I should be infinitely obliged to you.” 

“That is useless. From a gentleman I should not 
expect such duplicity as you exhibit in pretending 
to know nothing about the charge.” 

“I have pledged you my honor that I don’t know 
what you mean ; that I am not conscious of having 
given you any offense, much less done anything 
which can justify you in calling me a traitor.” 

“Do you know Miss Maud Hasbrouk?” de- 
manded Somers. 

“Of course I know her. You are perfectly aware 
that, though she is a rebel, she is a friend of our 
family.” 

“Good-night, Major Riggleston,” said Somers, 
as he put spurs to his steed and dashed down the 
hill, leaving his companion to infer what he meant 
from his connection with the lady, if he needed 
anything to enable him to explain the nature of the 
charge. 

The staff officer was excited and indignant that 
the traitor should attempt such a bold and foolish 
subterfuge. It was almost incredible that he should 
have the audacity to pretend that he did not know 
what the charge meant. There was no room for a 
doubt or a mistake. The major had positively re- 
ceived the blank letter; had positively gone after 
the rebel cavalry; had positively sustained Maud in 
her attempt to capture him. It was not possible. 


FIGHTING JOE 


89 


therefore, that he had done the culprit any Injus- 
tice. 

Thus assured that he had not wronged the 
major, Captain Somers again turned his attention 
to the message which he was to deliver to his gen- 
eral, and urged forward his weary horse at his best 
speed. He found the troops of “Fighting Joe’’ 
resting from the hard-fought action, and engaged 
in preparing their simple supper of coffee and 
“hardtack.” He delivered the orders of the com- 
manding general, and the division of Richardson 
was accordingly sent forward to pursue the fleeing 
rebels. 

Early on the following morning the army ad- 
vanced, and Somers found no time to think of pri- 
vate grievances. The general did much of his own 
reconnoitering on this occasion, though the mem- 
bers of his staff were kept constantly employed. 
The enemy had fallen back in disorder from South 
Mountain, but at ten o’clock in the forenoon the 
advance of the first corps came up with the position 
which the rebels had taken, to dispute the farther 
progress of the now victorious army. But the gen- 
eral had not at this time a sufficient force to make 
an attack. Antietam Creek lay between the two 
armies, and the bridge over it at this point was 
protected by the batteries which the rebels had 
planted to defend it. 

The enemy, in two lines on the west side of the 


90 


FIGHTING JOE 


creek, were believed to consist of fifty thousand 
men, and the brave general impatiently awaited the 
arrival of the rest of the corps. It looked like 
an opportunity to fight a successful battle, and he 
was determined to cross the stream at the first 
practicable moment. 

“General, the enemy are breaking into column 
and marching towards Williamsport,” said Somers, 
as he rode up from the point at which he had been 
surveying the movement on the other side of the 
creek. 

“They are on the retreat, then,” replied the gen- 
eral. 

Captain Somers and an officer of the engineers 
were then sent to examine the creek in search of a 
ford by which to transfer the troops to the other 
side as soon as the force of the rebels should be suf- 
ficiently reduced to justify an attack. The general 
chafed under the restraint which the circumstances 
imposed upon him, but he was too prudent to risk 
an attack while the advantage was so strongly 
against him. A ford was found near a mill, far- 
ther up the creek, and the officers reported the 
fact; but the arrival of the commanding general 
at this time prevented “Fighting Joe” from order- 
ing an advance. 

The corps remained at this place until the after- 
noon of the next day, when orders came to cross 
the creek. The troops proceeded up the stream, 


FIGHTING JOE 


91 


and went over by a bridge and by the fords which 
had been examined by the staff officers. The out- 
posts of the enemy were soon discovered and driven 
in, and the gallant corps continued to push the 
force in front till it was too dark to proceed any 
farther, at which time the resistance was fully equal 
to the power of the advancing host. This was the 
might before the great battle of Antietam. 

The weary troops lay down to rest in the corn- 
fields where they had halted. The rebels were close 
by, and the pickets of the two armies were within 
gunshot range of each other. There was no rest 
yet for the general and his staff, for it was evident 
that a great battle was to be fought on the morrow 
— a battle on which the destinies of the Union de- 
pended. If the grand army of the Potomac was 
defeated, there would be nothing to stay the march 
of the invaders. The fair fields and the prosperous 
cities and towns of the North would then be open 
to them. The great heart of the nation, beating 
timidly as the rebel hordes advanced, sickened by 
previous disasters, might sink into despondency, 
and the bright hopes of a great people be forever 
crushed. It was no time for the brain of the army 
to slumber. 

“We want information,” said the general, after 
he had sent an aide to General McClellan to an- 
nounce his intention to attack the enemy at the 
earliest dawn. 


92 


FIGHTING JOE 


The commander of the first army corps always 
wanted information, for he never moved in the 
dark. His brain and his arm were twin brothers 
in the conflict. Somers and Barkwood volunteered 
to procure the information, and left the headquar- 
ters for this purpose. It was useless to attempt to 
penetrate the heavy picket line of the rebels in the 
cornfields, . and they descended the hill beyond a 
farmhouse till they came to a ravine through w'hich 
flowed a considerable volume of water. 

“Here’s our chance,” said Somers, in a low tone. 

“That’s so; but, you know, I am a great cow'ard, 
and this looks like risky business,” replied Captain 
Barkwood. 

“If you are, I think there is no need of more 
than one of us going through.” 

“Oh, my dear fellow, I will go with you.” 

“I think it would be safer for us both to separate 
here.” 

“I agree with you.” 

“Then I will take this ravine, and you may see 
what you can find farther to the north.” 

“Good ! Now, be scientific, my boy; we want to 
know the topography of the country as well as the 
position of the enemy.” 

“Certainly; I think I understand what is re- 
quired,” replied Somers, as he descended the steep 
bank of the ravine into the water. 

The banks of the stream were, of course, occu- 


FIGHTING JOE 


96 


pied by the pickets of the two armies, and his 
course led him through both of them. He was just 
as much exposed to a shot from one as from the 
other. Somers was a man of experience in this 
business. He had earned a reputation as a scout, 
and had on three occasions brought in information 
of the utmost value to the Union commanders. In- 
deed, his skill in this particular branch had pro- 
cured for him his promotion and his present hon- 
orable position on the staff of “Fighting Joe.” He 
was now to undertake a fearful risk — more fear- 
ful, perhaps, than any he had before incurred ; but 
the greater the danger, the more valuable the ser- 
vice rendered, and the result of to-morrow’s battle 
might depend upon the fidelity with which he dis- 
charged his difficult duty. 

He wore his long boots, and he continued to 
feel his way on the verge of the stream, without 
going in beyond his depth. The ravine was fringed 
with a thick growth of bushes, which shielded him 
from the observation of the pickets, but the slight- 
est sound would expose him to the fire of the men. 
In many places trees formed an arch over the 
brook, and the darkness was so dense that he could 
hardly distinguish an object six feet from him. He 
did not walk; he crept, putting his feet down as a 
cat does when she is on the point of pouncing on 
her prey. 

After advancing a short distance he heard low 


94 


FIGHTING JOE 


voices on the banks above him. He was passing 
the first line of pickets — that of the Union army. 
His progress was very slow, but he succeeded in 
his purpose without drawing the fire of the senti- 
nels. He was now between the two lines, and he 
quickened his pace a little. 

While he was thus creeping through the shallow 
water he discovered in the gloom a dark object 
before him. He paused, and ascertained that it 
was a human figure — a man, who had also stopped; 
but whether friend or foe he could not determine. 


CHAPTER IX 


> 


BETWEEN THE PICKETS 

The man in the ravine stood stock-still, and 
Somers stood stock-still. Each had apparently dis- 
covered the other at the same moment, and each 
was disturbed by the same doubts in regard to the 
other. It was a deadlock, to all intents and pur- 
poses, for neither was willing to advance and be- 
tray himself to the other. Somers had his pistols ; 
but a shot, if he was compelled to shoot the stran- 
ger, might call forth the fire of the pickets on both 
sides. 

It was not a pleasant situation for either party, 
and they stood like black statues, each waiting for 
a movement on the part of the other. The only 
thing that Somers could do was to retire in the 
direction he had come; but this involved the failure 
of the enterprise in which he had engaged, and pos- 
sibly endangered the result of the next day’s battle. 
He was not disposed to retire, for, if the worst 
came, he could shoot his opponent and lie down 
under the bank of the ravine to shelter himself 
from the fire of the pickets. He waited a reason- 

95 


96 


FIGHTING JOE 


able time for the dark stranger to say or do some- 
thing; but as he seemed to be endowed with the 
patience of Job, our scout decided to take the ini- 
tiative himself. 

“Friend or foe?” demanded Somers, in a low 
tone, for he was disposed to confine the conversa- 
tion to themselves. 

“Friend, of course,” replied the other. 

“Which side do you belong to, friend?” asked 
Somers, deeming the answer rather indefinite. 

“To the Union side, of course,” replied the 
stranger, with refreshing promptness. 

There was no non-committal about him, as 
might have been expected, half way between the 
lines of the two armies, and Somers was pretty 
well satisfied that he was what he claimed to be. 

“Where are you going?” 

“That’s rather a delicate question, Captain Som- 
ers, my dear fellow,” responded the stranger. “You 
are evidently at your old tricks, captain.” 

“Who are you ?” demanded Somers, not a little 
surprised and disconcerted at being recognized in 
his present situation. 

“Don’t you know me?” added the stranger, ad- 
vancing cautiously towards the captain. 

“I haven’t that pleasure.” 

“Yes, you have, though it is rather dark here 
for a man to make out even his best friend. I am 
Major Riggleston.” 


FIGHTING JOE 97 

“Are you, indeed?” exclaimed Somers, taken all 
aback by the announcement. 

He would rather have met Stonewall Jackson 
under the circumstances. He could not imagine 
what the major could possibly be doing in such a 
place at such an hour of the night, unless he was 
crawling into the rebel lines, to take a part with 
the foe in the expected battle. He was tempted to 
shoot him on the spot, and thus, while he removed 
an obstacle in his own path, rid the country of a 
traitor and a dangerous enemy; but Somers never 
had the nerve to do anything that looked like de- 
liberate murder. 

“Major Riggleston, you are a mystery to me,” 
said he. 

“So I am to all who know me,” replied the 
major. “Come, captain, let us sit down and talk 
over the matter. If we speak low, the pickets will 
not hear us. You are a man after my own heart, 
and I desire to have you understand me better.” 

“I think I understand you very well.” 

“No, you don’t; you just now said I was a mys- 
tery to you,” chuckled the major. 

“I mean that I understand your objects — that 
you are a traitor to your cause and country.” 

“My dear captain, you never made a greater 
blunder in your life.” 

“I don’t see it.” 


98 


FIGHTING JOE 


*‘You shall see it in the course of ten minutes, if 
you will hear me.” 

“It is useless for me to hear you. I shall not 
believe a word you say, after what passed between 
us yesterday.” 

“What was that?” 

“Didn’t you deny all knowledge of the affair 
at the Hasbrouk house?” 

“ ’Pon my word, I did not.” 

“You did not?” 

“No.” 

“You have the worst memory of any man in 
Maryland.” 

“That may be.” 

“Did you, when we met last evening ” 

“We didn’t meet last evening,” interposed the 
major. 

“You have a most astonishing memory. I de- 
nounced you as a traitor.” 

“It wasn’t kind of you to do that,” laughed 
Piggleston. 

“Perhaps not ; but it was true. You didn’t know 
what I meant; you hadn’t the least knowledge of 
the affair at the Hasbrouk house ?” 

“Of course not, over there!” 

The major took off his cap and scratched his 
head. The act seemed suddenly to vivify his 
memory. 


FIGHTING JOE 99 

“Oh, I do remember meeting you last night,” 
said he. 

“Very good; I have some hope of you, at last. 
Now, can you recall the event to which I 
alluded?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“That you, in connection with Miss Hasbrouk, 
attempted to procure my capture by the rebels?” 

“I acknowledge the soft impeachment; but the 
affair is susceptible of a different construction from 
that you put on it.” 

“I think not.” 

“Upon my word it is, my dear fellow. I intend 
to prove it, and I am sure you will agree with me.” 

“First, will you explain to me how you happen 
to be in this ravine at this hour of the night, and 
when we are on the eve of a great battle?” asked 
Somers. 

“I could explain it to your undoubted satisfac- 
tion, my dear captain, but you must excuse me for 
the present.” 

“I can’t excuse you, and we may as well fight it 
out now as at any other time. You are a rebel and 
I am a Union man. In the words of Mr. Seward, 
there is an irrepressible conflict between us. You 
have caught me, and I have caught you. I don’t 
propose to shirk the responsibility of my position, 
but I suppose one of us must die, or be severely 
wounded, to insure the safety of the other.” 


100 


FIGHTING JOE 


Somers cocked his pistol. He had already made 
up his mind in regard to the presence of Major 
Riggleston at this place. His theory was that the 
fellow was a scout, like himself, if he was not a 
professional spy; that at the time they happened to 
meet, the major was passing over from the Union 
to the rebel lines, for the purpose of imparting to 
Stonewall Jackson, who was understood to be in 
command of the Confederate left wing, informa- 
tion in regard to the strength and position of Gen- 
eral McClellan’s forces. 

‘‘For Heaven’s sake. Captain Somers, don’t fire 
upon me !” exclaimed the major, as he heard the 
click of the pistol. 

There could be no doubt of the sincerity of the 
fellow in the use of these words. Somers judged, 
from what he had seen of him, that he was one of 
those persons who were born to creep, but by some 
blunder had walked upright, and thus deceived the 
world in regard to their true character. Though 
he called himself a fighting man, he was a cringing 
coward, as Somers had twice before had occasion 
to observe. 

“I have no wish to shoot you. Major Riggleston. 
I would much rather be spared that pain,” said 
Somers. “You have crossed my path, and you 
interfere with my plans.” 

“You are mistaken again. I propose to explain 
everything, and then we shall understand each 


FIGHTING JOE 


101 


other perfectly. You are a scout, and so am L 
You are obtaining information; so am I. You arc 
a true Union man; so am 1.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Here is my pass ; that will convince you.” 

“I can’t see to read it.” 

“I will light a match. It will not be seen in this 
hole.” 

The major handed him a paper, and struck a 
match against the inside of his cap. 

“Now read quick.” 

Somers read: “The bearer. Major Riggleston, 
of the — nd Maryland Home Brigade, is a true 
and loyal man, and as such entitled to receive pro- 
tection and assistance from all officers and soldiers 
of the United States.” The document was duly 
signed and countersigned by high and proper au- 
thority, and the date was within the current month 
and year. The captain was astonished beyond 
measure, for he had no doubt of the correctness of 
this safe-conduct. It knocked his little theory all 
to pieces, and he was forced, for the first time, to 
believe that he had misjudged the major. 

“Where are you bound now?” asked he. 

“Just where you are.” 

“Do you carry this paper with you?” 

“Always; my life would not be safe a moment 
without it.” 

“I should say your life would not be safe with 


102 


FIGHTING JOE 


it, if it were discovered upon you within the rebel 
lines.” 

“There is no danger on that score. I take good 
care of it. Are you satisfied, Captain Somers?” 

“I am satisfied with the paper; but I think your 
employers do not expect you to entrap Union offi- 
cers, as you attempted to do at the Hasbrouk 
house.” 

“My dear fellow, I did not intend to do any- 
thing of the kind.” 

“You were certainly a party to the transaction.” 

“Apparently I was; really I was not. Now that 
you understand the first part of the story, I will 
explain the second. You know Miss Hasbrouk?” 

“Certainly I know her.” 

“She is a beautiful girl — isn’t she?” 

“There can be no doubt on that point; but I 
suppose you will tell me next that she is not a rebel, 
and that she was working for the United States 
government when she got up that little conspiracy 
and attempted to have me hung.” 

“On the contrary, she is a rebel. Jeff Davis 
himself is not a more thorough-going rebel, and 
she was fully in earnest when she attempted to 
make you a prisoner.” 

“But you assisted her.” 

“Apparently only. If you had been handed over 
to the cavalry, as I supposed you would be, it 
would have been my privilege, as it would have 


FIGHTING JOE 


103 


been my duty, to get you out of the scrape, which 
I could very easily have done. Maud regards me 
as a rebel.” 

Somers could not help thinking that she was 
more than half right, but he was prudent enough 
not to give voice to his thought on this subject. 

‘‘You helped her through with the whole thing.” 

“Undoubtedly I did, but with the intention that 
you should not suffer. You are aware that she 
planned the scheme herself ; I was dragged into it, 
and I could not resist without impairing her con- 
fidence in me.” 

“You seem to value very highly the confidence 
of a rebel woman.” 

“For the sake of my suffering country I do, 
Maud is a beautiful girl; you acknowledge that. 
Well, the rebel officers think so, too,” added the 
major, pausing as if to give his companion an op- 
portunity to comment on this remarkable partiality, 
or perhaps to note the bearing of the fact on their 
intimate relations. 

“They are gentlemen of taste,” was all the com- 
ment Somers deemed it necessary to make. 

“Maud is an enterprising woman. She takes a 
deep interest in all army movements, and worms 
out of the rebel officers much valuable information, 
which I in turn worm out of her ; for I need hardly 
tell you that the relations between Maud and my- 
self are of the pleasantest character.” 


104 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Lovers?” added Somers. 

“Yes, if you please.” 

“It seems to me that is using a very sacred rela- 
tion for a very vicious purpose,” replied the cap- 
tain, whose fine sentiment was not a little shocked 
at the thought of lovers mutually deceiving each 
other. 

“We work for our country. Captain Somers.” 

“Go on, major.” 

“Don’t you understand it all now?” 

“I think I do; at least, enough of it to compre- 
hend your position.” 

Somers, in spite of himself, was not entirely sat- 
isfied; certainly not with the character of the man, 
if he was with the genuineness of his mission. 

“Which way were you going when I met you?” 
asked he. 

“The same way that you were,” replied the 
major, with some hesitation. “If you please, we 
will go on together. You report to one general, 
and I to another ; but the substance of our informa- 
tion must be the same. We will go on together 
and return together.” 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“I am entirely safe within the rebel lines. If we 
have passed the Yankee pickets, we have nothing 
more to fear.” 

The Yankee pickets I This was not the form of 
expression usually adopted by loyal men; and it 


FIGHTING JOE 


105 


was the second time he had detected his interesting 
companion in using it. It seemed to be habitual 
with him ; but perhaps it was because he had spent 
so much of his time within the rebel lines, pursuing 
the duties of his calling. 

‘T think we had better keep within the ravine.’’ 

“Very well; but I have a rebel safe-conduct.” 

“Would you let me see them both, if you 
please?” 

“Certainly, if you desire it,” replied the major> 
but with evident reluctance. 

He produced them both, with the remark that it 
was not necessary to read the true one again; but 
Somers wished it, and he yielded. The major 
lighted a match, and the captain read both the doc- 
uments. As he finished the match went out, and 
they were in total darkness again. 

“What’s that?” said Somers, suddenly springing 
to his feet, with the papers in his hand. 

It was a shot from the pickets; but there had 
been one every ten minutes since they sat down. 


CHAPTER X 


MAJOR RIGGLESTON 

Somers had thrust the papers into his pocket, 
pretending to fear the sudden onslaught of the 
pickets; but the alarm passed without any conse- 
quences, serious or otherwise. 

“We are perfectly safe, captain,” said Major 
Riggleston. “I believe you did not give me back 
my papers.” 

“Here they are,” replied he, handing him the 
blank letter which had played so important a part 
in the attempt to capture him at the Hasbrouk 
house, and which he had put in his pocket at the 
time. “We are losing the whole night, and we had 
better move on. I am satisfied with the prospect, 
but I would rather not expose myself to the rebel 
pickets.” 

“As you please; we can go through this place 
without being seen or heard. But I am well known 
all through the rebel army, and I shall not be mo- 
lested when I give my name.” 

“Then you will be a useful friend to me.” 

' 106 


FIGHTING JOE 


107 


“That’s what I have been t/ying to prove to 
you. Perhaps I ought to say that I actually hold a 
commission in the Confederate cavalry, which en- 
ables me to stand square before the rebels, while 
I give information to our own people. You under- 
stand me?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“I have told you what no other living man 
knows, for even the high authority that employs 
me has no conception of the means by which I pro- 
cure my information. I have trusted you, because 
you are a man after my own heart. What you did 
in Virginia endears you to me. We are kindred 
spirits, and it is proper that we should understand 
each other.” 

Somers hoped they were not kindred spirits, 
for, if the major was what he claimed to be, there 
could be but little sympathy between them. He 
was a coward and a brag, and he told more lies 
than even his dangerous profession required. He 
used the sacred relations of life for his own pur- 
poses. But Somers was not satisfied, as we have 
before suggested. The major had a safe-conduct 
from the authorities on both sides, and whatever 
weight he had given to the loyal one was neutral- 
ized by the production of the other. It was pos- 
sible that he had procured it for the purpose of 
doing Union work; but one pass nullified the other; 
and the captain was still in doubt as to which side 


108 


FIGHTING JOE 


his versatile companion actually belonged — so 
much in doubt that he was fully determined not to 
run any risks. 

Major Riggleston led the way up the ravine, 
both of them .creeping and crawling at a snail’s 
pace, so as not to attract the attention of the pick- 
ets on the bank above them. Somers would not 
have been very much surprised if the “kindred 
spirit” before him had summoned the soldiers to 
make him a prisoner; but he stood prepared for 
such an emergency. His pistol was ready for im- 
mediate use, and, if a scene occurred, he trusted to 
the darkness of the night and the friendly shelter 
of the ravine to promote his escape. 

Apparently, the highly respectable scout in his 
company had no intention of betraying him, for 
they passed in safety through the line of rebel pick- 
ets and emerged from the ravine into a grove of 
oaks. If the major had set a trap to make him a 
prisoner, or had resorted to a scheme to save him- 
self from a personal encounter in the lonely gorge, 
there was no longer any need that he should keep 
up his pretensions, for the camp-fires of the rebels 
were to be seen in every direction. Only a few 
rods from the spot where they stood there was a 
body of cavalry bivouacking on the ground. 

Somers was a prey to the most painful doubts. 
Uppermost in his mind was the wish to discharge 
with fidelity the difficult and dangerous task which 


FIGHTING JOE 


109 


had been imposed upon him ; and if Major Riggle- 
ston was what he claimed, he would be an invalu- 
able assistant to him. His two passes — one from 
each party in the great strife — proved nothing for 
or against him. It was utterly impossible, there- 
fore, to reach a satisfactory conclusion in regard to 
his companion. But it was not prudent to place 
himself in a situation where he could be easily cap- 
tured. All he could do was to permit affairs to 
take their own course until some further develop- 
ments should enable him to act intelligently. As 
they were now actually within the rebel lines, the 
conclusion of the whole matter must soon be 
reached. 

“This is rather dangerous business,” said the 
major, as they stepped from the bank into the oak 
grove. 

“We must proceed with the utmost caution,” re- 
plied Somers, nervously, as he gazed earnestly at 
his associate, to obtain, if he could, any clew to his 
purpose. 

“If you confide in me, Captain Somers, you will 
be safe, unless some stupid sentinel takes it into his 
head to fire upon us, which is really the only dan- 
ger we incur.” 

“I think we had better avoid these camps and 
squads of soldiers as much as possible. Do you 
know where the main line of Jackson’s army is?” 


110 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Certainly I do; I will show it to you in due 
time.” 

“Is he fortified?” 

“You shall see in a short time.” 

“How many men has he?” ^ 

“About seventy thousand.” 

Somers knew better than this; and the answer 
sounded very much like a Confederate reply to a 
Union question. 

“Now, follow me,” said the major; “and what- 
ever happens, don’t be alarmed.” 

Riggleston led the way through the grove; but 
they had advanced only a few paces before they 
were challenged by a rebel soldier. The major 
replied to the demand with easy self-possession, in- 
forming the soldier who he was. It was all right, 
and they were permitted to proceed on their way. 

“You see it is all right, captain,” said the major, 
as they entered the open field beyond the grove. 

“They know you very well.” 

“Of course they do.” 

“If you know all about the situation and the 
force of the rebels, what is the use of going any 
farther?” 

“I don’t know,” replied the major, rather con- 
fused at the question. “But, Somers, you wear 
your staff uniform.” 

“I do.” 

“That’s a mistake. It will expose yourself and 


FIGHTING JOE 


111 


me,” he added, with some appearance of alarm. 
“If I had seen what you had on before, I should 
not have dared to come with you.” 

“I don’t intend to show myself to these people.” 

“But we were challenged only a moment since, 
and if the soldiers had noticed your uniform, they 
would have detained you.” 

“If I had been alone I should not have exposed 
myself to their gaze.” 

“It’s a mistake, and we must correct it.” 

“Half the rebel officers wear Union colors. They 
rob our people of their coats, and don’t scruple to 
wear them.” 

“But a staff uniform !” 

“I think we had better separate here; I will take 
care of myself, and you can pursue your investiga- 
tions in your own way.” 

“You would be taken in less than half an hour. 
There is a house over here where I can get you a 
farmer’s frock, or something of that kind.” 

“Then, if taken, I am an officer in disguise, and 
it would go hard with me.” 

“I think it would, any way.” 

“Perhaps it would.” 

“You are pretty well known by reputation. You 
had better change your name.” 

“Perhaps I will, if I have to give my name.” 

“Who goes there?” demanded a squad of men, 


112 


FIGHTING JOE 


as they were on the point of crossing a rough farm- 
road. 

“Friends,” replied the major. 

“Who are you?” 

“Major Riggleston.” 

“We have just caught a Yankee spy — a fellow 
crawling into our lines,” replied one of the men. 

There were four of them; they had a prisoner 
whom they were conducting up the road towards 
the main body of Jackson’s division. 

“Where did you get him?” 

“Up in the cornfield beyond. He was crawling 
on his hands and knees between the rows, and had 
got almost through when we found him. We shall 
do some hanging in the morning. What shall we 
do with him, major?” 

Somers looked with interest and sympathy at the 
poor fellow thus entrapped; but the major was a 
Union man, and, of course, he would save him 
from his fate the moment he could consistently 
with the duty of keeping up appearances. 

“Take him up to this house,” said the major, 
pointing in the direction he was leading Somers. 

The men obeyed. Their dangling sabers indi- 
cated that they belonged to the cavalry, and the 
obedience they rendered Major Riggleston fur- 
ther indicated that they belonged to his battalion. 

“Why should these men obey you?” asked Som- 
ers, wishing to settle this point. 


FIGHTING JOE 


113 


‘They are my men. I told you I held a com- 
mission in the cavalry — for the good cause, you 
know.’’ 

“I understand.” 

“By the way, captain, have you seen Miss Has- 
brouk since we met last ?” 

“I have not.” 

“She follows the army.” 

“Which army?” 

“The rebel army, of course.” 

“What for?” 

“Because she likes it, I suppose. She is very 
useful as a nurse, they say. Of course, I don’t dis- 
courage her, for I make her serviceable to the good 
cause, you know.” 

The farmhouse was now in sight, and there was 
a light in one of the front rooms. Without the 
ceremony of knocking, the major opened the door 
and entered, ordering the four cavalrymen to fol- 
low him with their prisoner. 

“Come in,” said he. 

“Who is in this house?” demanded Somers, 
shrinking from the light which he saw within. 

“Only women, with a few wounded men. I want 
to see this prisoner, and find a good excuse for let- 
ting him go,” replied the major, in a whisper. 

Somers entered the house, where the prisoner 
had already been conducted. To his surprise and 
chagrin, he discovered that the unfortunate was 


FIGHTING JOE 


114 

Captain Barkwood; but the major did not seem to 
recognize his companion in the skirmish on the 
road and at the house of Mr. Riggleston in Fred- 
erick. 

“Two of you hold your prisoner,” said the 
major to the soldiers, as they entered the small 
room. 

“Now, Captain Sorners,” he added, when Cap- 
tain Barkwood had been placed in a corner with 
two men holding him, “allow me to add that we 
have carried this farce far enough, and that you 
are also a prisoner.” 

At this moment, to the astonishment of Somers, 
Maud Hasbrouk entered the room to learn the 
cause of the commotion — for it appeared after- 
wards that she was here nursing a couple of offi- 
cers who had been wounded at South Mountain. 

“Why, major, I did not expect to see you at this 
early hour of the night,” said she. 

“I have brought up one of your friends,” added 
he, laughing, as he pointed at Somers. 

“Captain Somers!” exclaimed she, as a smile of 
triumph lighted up the features of the beauty. 
“This is an unexpected pleasure. I hope you are 
quite well. Captain Somers?” 

“As well as usual, I thank you,” replied he. 

We need not add that he was bewildered by the 
new situation, and roundly condemned his own 
folly in permitting himself to be led into such a 


FIGHTING JOE 


115 


trap. It was quite evident that the treacherous 
major had brought him to this house for the pur- 
pose of permitting Miss Maud to enjoy the tri- 
umph. He was determined not to afford her much 
satisfaction. It might prove to be a hanging af- 
fair to him, and he felt himself warranted in re- 
sorting to the most desperate remedies. It was 
better to die by a bullet or a saber cut than perish 
by the rope. 

“I have been entertaining our friend the captain 
for the last hour with an account of my services to 
the Yankees, all of which he has swallowed as a 
fish does a worm, without seeing the hook within. 
He came here like a lamb; and, as you had some 
sparring with him on a former occasion, when he 
rather got the better of you, I thought you would 
like to see him before I send him and the other 
enterprising gentleman to the rear.” 

“I am delighted to see him. And the other 
gentleman is Captain Barkwood. He belongs to 
the regulars.” 

“I never saw him before,” replied the major. 

Somers thought he had another attack of bad 
memory; but the situation was too exciting to per- 
mit him to dwell on minor discrepancies. When 
the major called him a prisoner, Somers had quiet- 
ly fallen back into the corner of the room behind 
the door which he had entered. Barkwood had 
been thrust back into another corner at his left, 


116 


FIGHTING JOE 


while Maud and the major stood diagonally oppo- 
site to him, and near the door by which she had 
entered from the chamber of her patients. The 
two cavalrymen not employed were standing half- 
way between Somers and Barkwood. 

“I’m sure I am delighted to see you, Captain 
Somers,” laughed Maud. “I came over here to 
take care of two sick friends, and expected nothing 
but a melancholy time. Your presence fills me 
with satisfaction.” 

“I am greatly obliged to you, and thankful that 
I am able to do something more towards discharg- 
ing the debt of gratitude I owe to you for your 
kindness on a former occasion. You are fond of 
situations, and I am again the central figure in 
one,” answered Somers, without any apparent ap- 
preciation of the difficulty and danger of his posi- 
tion. “Would you like to ask me any questions?” 

“I cannot stop to question you now ; my patients 
need my care. You would evade them if I did; 
besides, this is Major Riggleston’s affair, not 
mine,” replied she, with a mocking laugh. 

“And I will take care that this affair don’t go 
wrong,” said the major. “Soldiers, secure your 
prisoners.” 

The two men moved towards Somers in the 


corner. 


CHAPTER XI 


SHOT IN THE HEAD 

The critical moment, when everything depended 
upon the wisdom and energy of the next move, had 
arrived. As Major Riggleston issued his order, 
Somers raised one of his pistols and, taking hasty 
but careful aim at his treacherous companion, fired. 
While her accepted suitor was uttering his man- 
date, Maud, as if fearing a repetition of the un- 
comfortable proceeding at the Hasbrouk house, re- 
treated into the apartment occupied by her patients. 
The ball struck the major in the head, and he fell 
with a shock that caused the rude structure to 
tremble. 

A half-suppressed shriek from the sick-room as- 
sured those in the front apartment that Maud 
was aware that active proceedings had commenced, 
though she could not have known who was the first 
victim in the encounter. The two soldiers who had 
been ordered to arrest the staff officer were bold 
enough to move upon their intended victim; but 
they only rushed upon the barrel of a revolver, 
pointed by the hand of one skilled in the business, 
117 


118 


FIGHTING JOE 


and collected enough to do his work carefully and 
effectively. 

Again Somers fired, and the foremost of the two 
soldiers fell dead upon the floor. He fired a third 
time, and the other soldier shrank back with the 
ball in his right shoulder. The two men in charge 
of Captain Barkwood had been too often in the 
midst of death and carnage to be appalled by these 
exciting events. 

“Hold this man!” exclaimed the more decided 
of the two, “and I will make short work of that 
fellow.” 

“Shoot him,” replied the other. “Do it quick.” 

He attempted to do it quick — too quick, for he 
missed his mark. He fired again, but the smoke 
impaired his aim. At this moment. Captain Bark- 
wood, conscious that the time for a demonstration 
in favor of his friend had come, with a sharp, ner- 
vous movement freed himself from the grasp of 
the rebel in charge of him, and struck him a tre- 
mendous blow in the temple with his bare fist, 
which felled him to the floor. Not satisfied with 
this deed, he sprang upon the other soldier, who 
was in the act of firing upon Somers for the third 
time. Grasping him by the shoulders with both 
hands, he brought his knee violently into the small 
of his back and thus threw him down. Seizing his 
pistol, he struck him a heavy blow on the head with 
the weapon. 


FIGHTING JOE 


119 


“I surrender,” said the wounded man — who was 
the only one of the four in condition to speak — as 
Somers moved towards him. 

The young captain took the saber from his belt 
and, opening the window, tossed it out. All active 
opposition had been conquered, but two of the 
men were only stunned, and in a short time they 
would probably be able to speak and act for them- 
selves. 

“Captain Somers, I would hug you if I had 
time,” said Barkwood. “What shall we do next?” 

“I hardly know,” replied Somers. “If we leave 
the house we may fall into the hands of the first 
squad of soldiers we meet. Besides, we have not 
done our work yet. We must first look after the 
lady.” 

Somers, stepping over the body of Major Riggle- 
ston, which lay near the door, entered the apart- 
ment occupied by the wounded officers. There was 
no light there, and he returned to bring that in the 
front room. He found Maud standing in the mid- 
dle of the room, apparently paralyzed with terror. 

“Miss Hasbrouk, here is another officer who 
needs your care, if he is not already past it.” 

“What do you mean?” asked she, in husky 
tones. 

“Major Riggleston has fallen.” 

She uttered a faint scream. She was so en- 
feebled by terror that she seemed not to have the 


120 


FIGHTING JOE 


strength to do anything. She was more at talking 
than she was at acting. 

“What shall I do?” asked she. 

“Come and see,” replied he. 

She timidly followed him into the adjoining 
room, and gazed with fear and trembling upon 
the form of the major. 

“Is he — is he — dead?” gasped she. 

“I don’t know,” replied Somers, stooping down 
and glancing at the wound on the major’s head. 
“No, he is not dead, and probably will not die 
with that wound.” 

“What shall I do ? Will you call a surgeon ?” 

“I think not.” 

“We have no time to spare. Captain Somers,” 
interposed the regular, with a smile at the simple 
question of the frightened Maud. 

“We will make our escape. We will go by the 
grove to the north of the house — to the north,** 
said Somers, with peculiar emphasis. 

“To the north,” repeated Barkwcod, with the 
same emphasis, though he did not understand the 
strategy of his companion. 

“We need not hurry; the more haste, the less 
speed in the business,” replied Somers, as he bent 
over the prostrate form of the major again. 

This time he took from his body the large, loose 
coat which the treacherous rebel had worn, and 


FIGHTING JOE 


121 


picked up the felt hat, adorned with a black 
feather, which had dropped from his head. 

“He is killed,” said Maud, who was beginning 
to recover her self-possession. 

“Perhaps he is; but that is his fault, not mine,” 
replied Somers, as he led the way out of the door, 
followed by the regular. “If either of you attempt 
to follow us, or leave the house within half an hour, 
it will cost you your lives,” he added, addressing 
Maud and the wounded soldier. 

“May I not send for a surgeon?” asked she, 
with a meekness which ill comported with her for- 
mer imperious manner. 

“No.” 

“But the major will die.” 

“I can’t help it.” 

“I will not say anything about you, if you will 
allow me to send for assistance.” 

“Half an hour will make no difference to him,” 
answered Somers, as he left the house. “Come 
with me,” added he to the regular, when they 
reached the open air. 

He led the way to the rear of the house, where 
there were a number of sheds and other outbuild- 
ings, used for various farm purposes. One of 
these he entered, followed by the regular, who 
seemed to repose unlimited confidence in the tact 
and ability of his young companion. 


FIGHTING JOE 


1^2 

“What next, Somers?” asked Barkwood, in a 
whisper. 

“Nothing just yet. There will be a tremendous 
row round here in the course of ten minutes, or, at 
most, half an hour. All we want just now is a 
snug place to lie by until the tempest blows over.” 

“But you are not going to stop here — are you?” 
demanded the regular, in a tone which sufficiently 
expressed his astonishment at such a policy. 

“This is the best place in the world for us. I 
am not a strategist, as you are, captain, but I have 
a fixed principle for use in cases of this kind, and 
that is, to stow myself away in a place where they 
are least likely to look for me.” 

“Very good; but where is that place?” 

“Here, in this house.” 

“That’s cool.” 

“But it is the best logic in the world. I don’t 
want to influence you in your movements. Captain 
Barkwood ; but I don’t intend to return without the 
information which I came out to procure. If you 
want to return to the camp, I will tell you how you 
can manage, though I think you had better remain 
with me.” 

“I am entirely of your opinion,” whispered the 
regular, with a suppressed chuckle. “You are an 
old head at this business, and I am as green at it as 
a two-months-old baby.” 

“As you please, captain. For my own part, I 


FIGHTING JOE 


123 


feel tolerably safe now. I was a fool to trust that 
Riggleston.” 

“He is an infernal villain !” 

“Hush!” said Somers, finding his companion 
was becoming a little too emphatic for safety. “I 
must find a place to stow you away.” 

In the back room of the house, which was only 
a shed attached to the rear of the building, Somers 
found a large closet, which seemed to be a kind of 
lumber-room. In this he bestowed his companion, 
and rolled a large chopping-block up before the 
door. While he was engaged in this operation the 
door leading /rom the kitchen into the shed opened 
and an old black woman rushed out, apparently 
deeply moved by some circumstance which Somers 
had no difficulty in understanding. She had a 
light in her hand, which at once revealed to her the 
presence of a stranger upon her own peculiar 
territory. 

“De Lo’d!” exclaimed she, starting back with 
alarm. 

“Silence, aunty 1 Don’t speak again,” said Som- 
ers, in a low tone. 

“Gracious! Dat’s Massa Riggleston!” added 
she, shrinking back. 

The scout had put on the great-coat and feath- 
ered hat of the major, which seemed to explain the 
terror of the woman. 

“Where are you going, aunty?” 


124 


FIGHTING JOE 


'‘For de doctor,” said she; “but if you be de 
ghost ob Massa Riggleston, ’tain’t no use for de 
doctor, for de major must be dead.” 

“No matter what I am, aunty. Come with me.” 

“De Lo’d sabe us !” 

“If you behave yourself, and don’t make a noise, 
I will not hurt you,” said he, as he led the way out 
of the shed. 

“Where be I gwine, massa?” 

“No matter; keep still.” 

A few steps from the door was a small tool- 
house, which Somers opened and ordered the wom- 
-an to go in. She tremblingly obeyed, and he closed 
the door upon her, with an injunction to keep en- 
tirely silent, which she seemed disposed to obey. 
Fastening the door upon her, he returned to the 
house, satisfied that she would not further interfere 
with his plans. 

The black woman had left the kitchen door 
open, and Somers walked in, with the light in his 
hand. There was a fire in the stove, on which 
there were several dishes of gruel and other arti- 
cles necessary for the sick-room. It was evident 
that the farmer and his family had been turned 
out of the house, for no other persons appeared to 
disturb his operations. His long, heavy boots 
were not favorable to stealthy movements, and he 
retired to the back room to remove them. After 
satisfying himself, by a further examination, in re- 


FIGHTING JOE 


1^5 

gard to the structure of the house and the position 
of the doors and windows, he extinguished the 
light and passed from the kitchen to the front 
entry. 

The door connecting with the front room, where 
the exciting events of the evening had occurred, 
was open. Maud, in the deepest distress, was talk- 
ing to the wounded soldier. He was unable or 
unwilling to do anything, and Maud depended 
upon the black woman for aid. Somers concealed 
himself under the stairs and waited for further 
developments. 

He was not compelled to wait long, for pres*- 
ently he heard footsteps, which indicated the ar- 
rival of at least half a dozen persons. 

“It is hardly time for the return of Major Rig- 
gleston,” said one of them. 

“We are rather early; but when he comes he 
will bring us the fullest intelligence,” added an- 
other, as they entered the front room. 

Then there was a commotion, which was pro- 
duced by the discovery of what had taken place in 
the apartment. There was nothing but a board 
partition between Somers and the interior of the 
room, and he could distinctly hear everything that 
was said. Maud told, in few words, what had 
happened in the room; that Major Riggleston had 
been shot in the head in his attempt to capture two 
prisoners, and that the men who had done the foul 


126 


FIGHTING JOE 


deed had escaped. From what was said it was 
evident that one of the officers was a person high 
in command — a general of division, if not Stone- 
wall Jackson himself. The others called him sim- 
ply “general,” and Somers could not determine 
who he was. The officers with him were probably 
members of his staff. 

The general immediately dispatched one of his 
officers to institute a strict search for the spies who 
had done this terrible work. He regretted that it 
had not been discovered before, for the miscreants, 
as he called them, in the most complimentary terms, 
were probably a good distance from the house by 
this time. 

“I know which way they went, general,” said 
Maud, eagerly. “They went to the north of the 
house.” 

“To the north, general,” added the wounded 
soldier, for both of them had carefully treasured 
up this information, dropped hastily from the 
mouths of the scouts, for future use, as Somers in- 
tended they should. 

“Very well; pursue them towards the north, 
colonel,” resumed the general. “But don’t say a 
word about what has happened in this house till 
morning. It will help us in the search.” 

The speaker proceeded to give very careful di- 
rections for the pursuit and the search, to all of 
which Somers listened with the deepest interest. 


FIGHTING JOE m 

The colonel who had been charged with the duty 
departed. 

“What do you think of him, doctor?^’ asked 
Maud, revealing to the listener the fact that one of 
the officers was a surgeon. 

She was sad and depressed, and asked the ques- 
tion with trembling tones, which betrayed her solici- 
tude for the wounded major. 

“I don’t think he is very badly wounded. The 
ball has passed through his head; but worse cases 
than this have occurred, and the patients are alive 
and well to-day,” replied the surgeon. 

The wounded ma[n was taken up and borne to a 
bed in the chamber with Maud’s other patients, 
after which the soldiers received some attention. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE COUNCIL OF OFFICERS 

Somers heard all that was said in the front 
room, and judged from that, and the sounds which 
reached him, what was taking place there. The two 
men who were stunned came to their senses, after a 
while, and they were sent off with the dead and 
wounded ones; for it appeared that the general 
wanted the apartment for a consultation with his 
officers. It was expected that Major Riggleston 
would be present at this place with fresh informa- 
tion from the Yankee lines, and the listener con- 
gratulated himself that he had been able to disap- 
point them in this respect. 

The major had chosen the ravine for his passage 
through the pickets, and it was now evident that 
he intended to resume his work as soon as he had 
disposed of his prisoner. The fellow was armed 
with a pass, and, Somers well knew, was regarded 
in the loyal lines as a major of the — nd Mary- 
land Home Brigade, and could therefore go where 
he pleased, even into the very councils of the gen- 
eral commanding the army of the Potomac. 

128 


FIGHTING JOE 


1^9 


Somers believed he had made a great discovery. 
The rebels always knew precisely when and where 
the army of the Potomac were going to move. 
When McClellan had actually m*ade up his mind to 
attack the forces fortified at Manassas, they sud- 
denly decamped. All his movements for months 
were mysteriously communicated to the enemy, 
even before the general officers of the loyal army 
were informed in regard to them. People won- 
dered, the press commented severely, and the gov- 
ernment was perplexed. 

Captain Somers thought he understood all about 
it now, and believed that he had laid out the man 
who had done all this mischief. Much as we ad- 
mire the captain, our hero, we are compelled to say 
that he was mistaken. He had really made no 
such discovery, and had achieved no such tremen- 
dous result as the killing of the one who had 
done this immense injury to the loyal cause, as 
future pages in our history will show. But he be- 
lieved Major Riggleston, whom he had seen in 
the staff of the general commanding, was the man 
who had conveyed all this information; he be- 
lieved he had made this great discovery, accom- 
plished this big thing; and he took courage ac- 
cordingly. 

Major Riggleston was not there to speak of 
what the Yankees had done, and what they in- 
tended to do; but, for all this, the consultation of 


130 


FIGHTING JOE 


officers proceeded. Somers heard them discuss 
their own position and that of the enemy; he heard 
them suggest all manner of possibilities and proba- 
bilities, and how to meet them; but they did not 
speak so definitely as he wished they would. They 
alluded to a line of field-works, which the listener 
was unable to locate. 

Somers was coiled up behind a chest of drawers, 
and did not concern himself at all about his per- 
sonal safety. He was too deeply interested in the 
labors of the council to think of himself. He had a 
tolerably good idea of the rebel plans, and won- 
dered whether the man who was called “general” 
was really Stonewall Jackson. He could not reach 
a satisfactory conclusion on this point, but he was 
strongly in favor of the supposition. 

“It is one o’clock, and we must get a little sleep,” 
said the mysterious general, as Somers heard the 
rattling of chairs when they rose from the table. 

“Some of us will probably make a long sleep of 
it to-morrow,” added one of the officers. 

“Don’t trifle with a matter so serious,” con- 
tinued the general, solemnly. “Ah, here is the 
colonel,” he added, as the door opened and two 
or three persons entered the house. “What news 
do you bring? Have you captured those Yan- 
kees?” 

“I have neither captured them nor heard a word 
of them. Not a soul within our lines knows any- 


FIGHTING JOE 


131 


thing about them,” replied the colonel, in tones of 
disgust and mortification. 

“That’s singular. Our sentinels are sleepy; they 
must be stirred up. The miscreants had not been 
gone from this house more than twenty minutes 
when we arrived, according to the statement of the 
lady.” 

“Nothing was ever more thoroughly done than 
the search we made; but I am positive they have 
got through.” 

“Perhaps not,” suggested the general. 

“I have searched every house, grove and clump 
of trees ; every hole, ditch and cornfield within two 
miles of this spot. I am satisfied, but I believe 
there are traitors within our camp. They could 
not have got through the camp without help from 
our side of the line.” 

“We will look into that matter at the first oppor- 
tunity,” replied the general, with a long gape. 

They left the house in a body, and all was silent 
within, except the step of Maud Hasbrouk, as she 
attended to the wants of the sufferers in her care. 
Somers had done all he could do in this place, and 
he was satisfied that the search for himself and 
Captain Barkwood had been abandoned. He 
crawled out of the corner in which he had been 
coiled away for over two hours, intent upon the 
great duty which was still, in a measure, unper- 
formed. He had some doubts whether his friend 


132 


FIGHTING JOE 


in the closet had been patient under the long delay, 
and he was in haste to relieve him from the sus- 
pense and discomfort of his situation. 

There was no one in the house but Maud and 
her three patients. There was, therefore, nothing 
to fear, and he crept towards the door leading 
from the entry into the kitchen. He softly opened 
it, and was stealthily making his way towards the 
shed, w^hen the door of the front room was thrown 
wide open, and Maud, apparently in a great hurry, 
stepped into the kitchen. She had a bowl in her 
hand, and was intent upon the object which had 
brought her there, so that she did not at first see 
Somers, who stood in the middle of the floor. 

When she discovered him she screamed, and 
started back in astonishment and terror, dropping 
the dish ; but she still held the light which she had 
brought from the sick-room. Somers regarded 
the meeting as a very unfortunate occurrence, and 
wished he had been prudent enough to go out at the 
front door; but it w^as too late to indulge in vain 
regrets, and the situation was sufliciently perilous 
to induce him to resort at once to decisive measures, 
for the tongue of the woman was hardly less dan- 
gerous than a squad of rebel cavalry. 

“Who are you?” asked the lady, when she had 
recovered herself sufficiently to speak. 

“It matters not who I am,” replied Somers, dis- 
guising his voice as much as he could. 


FIGHTING JOE 


163 


“Captain Somers I” exclaimed she, shrinking 
back still farther. 

“I am sorry, for your sake, that you have recog- 
nized me,” replied he, dropping the collar of his 
coat, which he had drawn up over his face. “Miss 
Hasbrouk, your discovery endangers my life; I am 
compelled either to shoot you, or ” 

“To shoot me!” exclaimed she, with horror. 

“What is the matter, Maud?” said a voice from 
the front room, which was followed by the appear- 
ance of Major Riggleston, whose head was tied up 
with bandages, as the surgeon had dressed it. 

“It is Captain Somers,” said she, in trembling 
tones. ' 

“It seems that I did not fully do my work,” 
added Somers, taking a pistol from his belt. 

“Don’t fire, Somers, don’t,” said the major, in 
tones so feeble and piteous that Somers could not 
help being moved by them. “You have nearly 
killed me now, and you ought to be satisfied.” 

“It is your life or mine. Major Riggleston, and 
I have no time to argue the matter. In five min- 
utes more you will have the whole Confederate 
army at my heels. I run no risks with a villain 
like you,” replied Somers. 

“Don’t fire!” begged Maud. “I will do any- 
thing you desire, if you will spare me.” 

It was something to see a brawling rebel wom- 
an, the most pestilent and inveterate enemy the 


134 


FIGHTING JOE 


government had in the contest, in a pleading pos- 
ture. It was something to expose the ridiculous 
pretensions of one of that army of female rebels, 
fiercer and more vindictive than the men, and to 
demonstrate that she had none of the courage of 
which she had boasted. Maud regretted that her 
sex compelled her to be a non-combatant; it was 
doubtful whether she would ever again regret it. 

“I wish not to take the life of either of you; but 
my own safety compels me to use strong measures,” 
said Somers, as he cocked his pistol. 

“For mercy’s sake, don’t fire !” gasped Maud. 

“Don’t kill me, Somers. I will pledge you my 
word and honor not to expose you,” added the 
major. 

“What are your word and honor good for, after 
what has happened this night?” sneered Somers. 

“I will give you all the information you require, 
if you will spare my life.” 

“That would not save my life.” 

“I will give you the countersign.” 

“That’s something towards it.” 

The wretch gave him the word, and, while he 
received it, he despised the major more than ever 
before. He was now a traitor to both sides; but 
all this, and more, would he give in exchange for 
his life. Somers then questioned him in regard to 
the position of various bodies of rebel troops, and 


FIGHTING JOE 


185 


the miscreant answered him promptly and, as it 
was afterwards shown, correctly. 

“You know me now. Major Riggleston, and 
Miss Hasbrouk, and you must understand that I 
go about with my life in my hand. I am not to be 
trifled with. I will not take your life yet.” 

“I will swear never to reveal your presence to a 
living soul,” exclaimed the major. 

“You need not; you have given me better secur- 
ity than your oath that you will not expose me. If 
I am taken, I shall be taken with the countersign in 
my keeping. I had it from you. If you have given 
me the wrong word, I shall be turned back.” 

“I have given you the right word,” interposed 
the major. 

“If I am turned back, I shall come here first and 
complete my work,” added Somers, sternly. 

“You shall have my pass.” 

“I have it already. I have not yet exhausted all 
my resources,” said the scout, producing the two 
passes which he had neglected to return in the 
ravine. 

He opened them; but, though the wounded 
major was surprised, he was too weak and broken 
in spirits to ask any questions, or even to care 
where his late companion had procured them. 

“All I ask of you. Major Riggleston, and of 
you. Miss Hasbrouk, is to keep still,” continued 
Somers. 


1B6 


FIGHTING JOE 


“I will,” replied Maud, eagerly. 

“And I will. Captain Somers. What I have 
done here to save my life has ruined me. I shall 
never be seen in the service again.” 

“I think you are coming to your senses, major.” 

“May I ask you to keep quiet in regard to what 
I have done? for you know the penalty of that 
which I could not have done if I had not stood on 
the brink of the open grave.” 

“That will depend on your own conduct. Re- 
turn to your bed, and if you are treacherous you 
will suffer for it.” 

“I may die,” groaned the major, who had sunk 
into a chair, for he believed his wound was much 
worse than it really was. 

Perhaps some twinges of remorse had induced 
him to aid Somers in his mission more than he 
otherwise would; he was not a man of nerve, or a 
man of much nobility of purpose, and his severe 
wound had worked a great change in his moral 
and mental organization. The fear of death had 
deprived him of what little manliness he possessed, 
and under the pressure of that terror he had sunk 
lower down in the scale of humanity than it would 
have been possible for him under any other circum- 
stances. He had absolutely betrayed the cause for 
which he professed so earnest and sincere a devo- 
tion. His boasted honor was a delusion. He was 
an exception, even in the ranks of Southern heroes. 


FIGHTING JOE 


137 


Somers was satisfied with what was promised, 
and with what had already been performed. He 
restored his pistol to his belt and hastened to the 
back room, where Captain Barkwood was no doubt 
anxiously waiting to hear from him. 

“Come out, captain,” said he, as he threw open 
the door. 

“Is that you, Somers?” asked the regular, as he 
stepped from his narrow quarters. “I had given 
you up for lost^ and was just thinking of engaging 
in a little enterprise of my own. Where have you 
been?” 

Somers, as briefly as {Possible, explained the 
events that had transpired during his absence, to 
which the regular listened with wonder and ad- 
miration. It was now two o’clock in the morning, 
and there was much still to be done before they 
could return to the camp. Somers, still wearing 
the coat and feathered hat of Major Riggleston, 
left the back room, followed by Barkwood, and 
for three hours wandered about the camps of the 
rebels. They were often challenged; but Somers 
gave his name as Major Riggleston, and produced 
the pass when called upon, or gave the countersign. 
The day was breaking in the east when they fin- 
ished the examination. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM 

“We have been detained a long time,’’ said 
Somers, when they reached the ravine through 
which it was necessary to pass on their return; for 
it was not likely that the rebel pickets would permit 
even the ubiquitous Major Riggleston to go over to 
the Yankees. 

“Too long, too long,” replied the regular, rather 
nervously for him. “I am afraid we are too late 
to be of much service.” 

“The general grinds up his information rapidly. 
If we see him before he commences the action we 
shall be all right.” 

Slowly and carefully they worked their way 
through the ravine, for they felt that they were 
treasure-houses of information, which must not 
be needlessly exposed to destruction; and a little 
hurrying not only imperiled their own lives, but en- 
dangered the good cause to which both of the 
scouts were devoted. With all the haste which the 
circumstances would permit, it was broad dayliqrht 
138 


FIGHTING JOE 139 

when they emerged from the ravine within the 
Union lines. 

They hurried to headquarters. Though no 
drums beat or bugles sounded, the note of prepara- 
tion had passed silently along the lines. The or- 
ders of the general had been fully and carefully 
executed, and brigades and divisions were in col- 
umn, ready for the advance. “Fighting Joe” and 
his staff were already in the saddle ; and half a mile 
off, on a little eminence, Somers discovered the gen- 
eral on his white steed. Alick had groomed his 
horse and saddled him, though with many fears 
that his master would never return to use him 
again. 

As Somers approached, the faithful fellow saw 
him and led up the horse. He was overjoyed to 
see him once more, and made a beautiful exhibition 
of ivory on this interesting occasion. The young 
staff officer, nearly exhausted after the perils and 
labors of the night, filled his haversack with 
“hardtack” and leaped into the saddle. There was 
not a moment to be lost, and he dashed away to- 
wards the spot where the general was busily em- 
ployed in making his preparation for the attack. 

The excitement of the moment enabled him to 
triumph over the bodily fatigue which had weighed 
him down, and he urged on the noble animal he 
rode to his utmost speed. The horse seemed to 
participate in the interest and excitement of the 


140 


FIGHTING JOE 


occasion, and galloped as though he was conscious 
of the importance of his master’s mission. As he 
approached the spot where the general and his staff 
stood, Somers reined in his steed, and nearly threw 
him back upon his haunches, when he raised his 
sword to give his commander the usual salute. It 
was a proud, a triumphant moment for him, and 
the gallant steed behaved as though it was his duty 
to make the utmost display as he introduced his 
rider to the general. 

“Captain Somers !” exclaimed the general. “I 
gave you up this morning when I learned that you 
had not been heard from.” 

“I have the honor to report that I have fully 
performed the duty intrusted to me,” replied Som- 
ers, employing rather more formality than usual in 
his address. 

The scout gave his Information, the most impor- 
tant parts of which were the fact that Stonewall 
Jackson’s troops were concentrated on a fortified 
line, and that General Lee had massed his entire 
force behind the crest of the hill, in readiness for 
the great battle, which was apparently to decide 
the fate of the nation. 

Then commenced that greatest and most mo- 
mentous battle of the series of engagements in 
Maryland, which checked the invasion and drove 
the rebels from the north to the south side of the 
Potomac. It was a fearful strife, a most deter- 


FIGHTING JOE 


141 


mined battle, fought with a bravery, on both sides, 
bordering on desperation. The event was to in- 
volve a mighty issue — no less than the fate of a 
great nation; for the moral effect of a victory by 
the rebels on the soil of the North would be disas- 
trous, if not fatal, to the loyal cause, while it would 
open to the half-starved and impoverished Con- 
federacy the vast storehouses of wealth of the free 
North. 

Those who fought on that day, from the skilful 
generals, who directed the operations, to the hum- 
blest private, who cheerfully and zealously obeyed 
the orders of his superiors in the midst of the ter- 
rible carnage of the battle-field, understood and 
appreciated the issues of that day. The sons of 
the republic will gratefully remember them all, and 
none with a more lively sense of obligation than 
“Fighting Joe,” whose skill and judgment, no less 
than his heroic bravery, brought victory out of the 
stubborn fight intrusted to him, upon which, more 
than upon the operations of any other portion of 
the line, the fate of the day rested. He was face 
to face with Stonewall Jackson, the most vigorous 
and determined leader of the Confederacy, the pet 
of the rebels, and the hope of the commanding 
general of the invading hordes. He was pitted 
against this man, who was the executive of Lee’s 
brain, without whom Lee’s strategy lost its power. 

The battle on the right was fought and won, but 


14)2 


FIGHTING JOE 


not till mighty sacrifices had been made of precious 
life. It was one of the most obstinate conflicts of 
the war, and for hours the issue swung back and 
forth, and it was doubtful upon which side it would 
rest. The first corps went forward and were driven 
back in places ; divisions were reduced to brigades, 
and brigades to regiments, before the terrible fire 
of the rebels ; and nothing but the indomitable will 
and the admirable skill of the general saved the 
day. Every weak point in the line was strength- 
ened, every advantage was used, and every disad- 
vantage counterbalanced, till a splendid triumph 
was achieved. 

Stonewall Jackson was ably and prudently sup- 
ported by General Lee ; troops from other portions 
of the line were sent to this imperiled position, in 
a vain attempt to save the failing fortunes of the 
day. Fresh troops were from time to time hurled 
against the hard-pressed brigades of the first corps, 
which were forced back, but only to be again 
strengthened and urged on by the masterly genius 
of “Fighting Joe,” until all that had been lost was 
retrieved. Later in the day, when the attack was 
made by the left and center, the rebel line had been 
weakened by the large drafts required to meet the 
waste on the right, and, of course, the resistance 
was correspondingly diminished. With less stub- 
born and skilful fighting than that done on the 
right, the assaults of Burnside on the left, and of 


FIGHTING JOE 


143 


French and Richardson in the center, could hardly 
have been successful. 

The noble and gallant Burnside won immortal 
honors on that terrific day. He fought against 
every disadvantage, which he bravely and skilfully 
overcame. The result of the battle was less de- 
cisive than had been hoped and expected from the 
splendid fighting and the brilliant partial results 
achieved. The rebel army was severely handled; 
its resources and its prestige tremendously reduced; 
and the object of the campaign was actually accom- 
plished ; but whether the results of the several suc- 
cessful operations on the field were prudently ag- 
glomerated, whether the greatest practicable use 
was made of the victory, we must leave the his- 
torian to decide. 

While Captain Somers was making his report. 
Captain Barkwood arrived, and was congratulated 
upon his safety and success. As an engineer he 
gave his opinion, and was able to supply informa- 
tion which Somers had not the scientific skill to 
deduce from what he had seen. The order was 
given to advance. The eye of the general was 
everywhere, even while his mind was occupied with 
the details furnished by the scouts. He sent mem- 
bers of his staff in every direction. He held the 
vast and complicated mechanism of his corps at 
his fingers’ ends. He knew where every brigade 
and every battery of his force was at that moment, 


144 


FIGHTING JOE 


and where it was to be an hour hence. He moved 
them all about, as a skilful weaver tosses the many 
shuttles, each with a different colored thread, 
through the fabric before him. He was weaving 
history on a gigantic scale. 

Somers sat upon his restless horse, eating the 
“hardtack” he had brought, but ready to dash 
away upon any mission on which he might be sent, 
when an aide from the general commanding rode 
up and delivered an order to the commander of the 
corps. Somers did not particularly notice him at 
first, but as the staff officer turned, his teeth sud- 
denly suspended their useful and interesting occu- 
pation, leaving his mouth half open, where it re- 
mained in the condition to express the wonder and 
astonishment which the presence of the officer ex- 
cited. 

“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed he, almost 
choking himself with the unmasticated block of 
“hardtack” in his mouth. 

“Captain Somers, good-morning,” replied the 
major, with a pleasant and friendly smile. 

“Is it possible?” stammered Somers. 

“What possible?” demanded Riggleston. 

“That you are here,” replied the bewildered 
Somers, gazing at the major attentively, and s^ur- 
veying him from head to foot. 

It was the same new and bright uniform which 
the major had worn when they met on previous 


FIGHTING JOE 


145 


occasions on the road; it was not the same which 
he had worn in the rebel lines, or at the Hasbrouk 
mansion; but the face was the same, the whiskers 
and mustache were the same in cut and color; and 
Somers, in spite of the doubt which at first assailed 
him, was even now ready to make oath that he was 
the same man he had shot in the head the preced- 
ing evening. 

“Why shouldn’t I be here, my dear fellow?” 
laughed the major. “We are going to have hot 
work about here to-day.” 

“How is your head, major?” demanded Somers, 
who could think of nothing at this moment but the 
amazing fact that he again stood in the presence of 
Major Riggleston. 

“Cool and clear, I hope,” replied the major. 

“How is your wound?” 

“What wound?” 

“Didn’t you receive a wound in the head last 
evening?” 

“Upon my word I did not, that I am aware of.” 

“Will you excuse me, Major Riggleston, if I ask 
you to remove your hat for a moment?” said Som- 
ers, as he moved his horse up to the side of the 
major’s. 

“Certainly; with pleasure,” replied the staff offi- 
cer, as he took off his hat. 

There was no bandage, nor any appearance of a 
wound. Somers was more bewildered than ever, 


146 


FIGHTING JOE 


and was disposed to do what heroes in the ro- 
mances do when anything looks astonishingly mys- 
terious — ascribe the delusion to a dream. But he 
was tired enough from the exertions of the night to 
convince him that all which had occurred within 
the rebel lines was a reality. 

“Will you allow me to examine your head?” 
asked he, utterly unable to see through the dark 
problem. 

“I will do even that with pleasure, Captain 
Somers ; though I think you are a little beside your- 
self,” laughed the major. 

Somers reached forward and put his hand on the 
part of the major’s head where the pistol-ball had 
struck him, but there was not the slightest abra- 
sion of the skin; in a word, the head was in good 
order and condition, and it was absolutely certain 
that no bullet had passed through his skull. 

“I am satisfied. Major Riggleston,” replied 
Somers, though he was still in a bewildered state of 
mind. “I owe you an apology for the rude treat- 
ment to which I subjected you on a former occa- 
sion. You are not the man I took you to be, and I 
hope you will pardon my rough speech and un~ 
friendly manners.” 

“Cheerfully, Captain Somers. Here is my 
hand,” replied the major, evidently as mucli 
pleased to forgive as the scout was to be forgiven. 

“I am satisfied now.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


147 


“But I am not,” responded the major. 

“Last night, about eleven o’clock, I shot you 
through the head,” said Somers, facetiously. 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you!” 

“Well, perhaps you did, but I did not feel it.” 

“I was willing, a moment ago, to give my affi- 
davit that you were the person. I was mistaken 
this time, as I was yesterday when I accused you 
of being a traitor. By the way. Major Riggle- 
ston,” added Somers, as he took from his pocket 
the two passes he had received from the mysterious 
personage in the ravine, and selecting the Union 
one, handed it to his companion, “is this docu- 
ment yours ?” 

“It is,” replied the major, glancing at the pass. 
“Where did you get this?” 

“Is this yours?” continued Somers, handing him 
the other pass. 

“No; this is a rebel pass,” answered the major. 
“I never saw it before, and have no occasion for a 
paper of this description. Where did you get the 
other?” 

“You gave it to me last night,” laughed Somers. 

“Fm sure I did not.” 

“Captain Somers 1” called the general, and the 
interview was abruptly terminated. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE BATTLE ON THE RIGHT 

The Pennsylvania Reserves, commanded by 
General Meade, occupied the center of the line of 
the first corps. They were a noble body of troops, 
and had done some of the most splendid fighting 
of the war on the Peninsula, and in the bloody but 
indecisive battles of Pope’s campaign. Captain 
Somers, as if in compliment to him for his zeal and 
his energy, was sent to bear the order for this 
division to advance. 

The Reserves moved forward with a hearty, 
cheerful zeal, and presently the thunder of their 
artillery and the rattling volleys of musketry pro- 
claimed the commencement of the conflict. A por- 
tion of Stonewall Jackson’s command was before 
them — men who always fought with the energy of 
desperation. They were a worthy foe, and worth- 
ily were they met ; but the rebels had the advantage. 
Their renowned leader had chosen their position, 
and the brave Pennsylvanians suffered terribly. 

“Fighting Joe,” on his white charger, rode up to 
148 


FIGHTING JOE 


149 


the position in the front of the battle. He was 
calm and unmoved in the shower of bullets, and 
the troops were gladdened and encouraged by his 
presence. They were strong without him; they 
were stronger with him. He gave off his orders 
with the utmost coolness, and spoke words of fire 
which burned in the souls of the men. He was 
there — the idol of the army — and there was not a 
man who would not have been ashamed to skulk 
with this noble example before him. The mighty 
will of the general was communicated to the nerves 
and the muscles of his soldiers, and he multiplied 
himself thousands of times in the persons of his 
devoted followers. 

Still they moved on, Meade’s division, supported 
by that of Ricketts, nearer to the woods where the 
rebels were concentrated; and still they poured in 
the deadly volleys, until the resistance before them 
was sensibly diminished. 

“Forward” was the word that rang along the 
line ; and the Reserves, supported by two of Rick- 
ett’s brigades, rushed on with cheers and entered 
the oak grove. The rebels were falling back before 
them, and they rushed through the woods, across 
the open field on the other side, and still onward to 
the woods beyond the field. But here they were 
thrown upon bodies of fresh troops, hurried up to 
meet them. From the dark shadows of the wood 
came showers of bullets from a sheet of flaming 


150 


FIGHTING JOE 


fire. The grove was packed with rebels; the Re- 
serves seemed to melt away like frost before the 
sunlight, in that galling fire. They closed up their 
shattered lines and fell doggedly back, pouring in 
volley after volley upon the dense masses. 

The fortunes of the day seemed suddenly to 
have been reversed; what had been victory a mo- 
ment before now became defeat. Stonewall Jack- 
son’s entire line was advancing with those fiendish 
yellswhich distinguished the rebel onslaught. It was 
a critical moment in the fortunes of the day; but 
the genius of the man who held the reins in his 
hands was equal to the occasion. He was not a 
mile in the rear; he was in the front, where he 
could see the indications of threatening disaster; 
where he could promptly meet and counteract the 
elements of defeat which had begun to manifest 
themselves. 

“Captain Somers,” said he, in his calm but ear- 
nest tones. 

Somers spurred forward his horse, and, saluting 
the general, stood in readiness for his commands. 

“Tell General Ricketts to send me his best bri- 
gade instantly.” 

It rained shot and shell on the hillside as Somers 
dashed away to execute the order. Presently the 
“best brigade,” consisting of the Twelfth and Thir- 
teenth Massachusetts, the Ninth New York and 
the Eleventh Pennsylvania, under the command of 


FIGHTING JOE 


151 


General Hartsuff, double-quicked down the hill, 
amid the falling shot and bursting shell, which 
crashed fearfully through the trees and tore up the 
earth in their mad flight. They were veteran 
troops, commanded by a veteran soldier of skill 
and bravery. They passed the general on their 
march, and his eye lighted up with satisfaction as 
he saw the spirit which they manifested. 

“I think they will hold the ground,” said he, as 
General Hartsuff, passing the shattered lines of the 
Reserves, drew up his brigade on the summit of a 
hill between them and the exultant foe. 

They fired in volleys at first, and then at will; 
but they did their work most heroically. None 
flinched; none fled. The rebels pushed forward 
their flushed troops; but these gallant fellows 
stormed them with bullets, and, assisted by the 
brigades of Gibbons and Patrick, repelled the as- 
sault. Jackson’s lines suffered severely, and a 
large number of field officers were killed in vain 
attempts to rally them. The rebels fell back again 
to the woods from which they had come, and again 
this part of the line was safe. There had been a 
terrible loss in the gallant brigade which held the 
brow of the hill, and General Hartsuff was severely 
wounded early in the action. 

The general of the corps had saved his line in 
this place — had brought a success out of a reverse ; 
but his brain was still active. Batteries rushed 


152 


FIGHTING JOE 


like a train of meteors over the held, obedient to 
his ready thought. Messages of varied import 
came to him from division commanders. Ricketts 
was hard pressed — could barely hold his position, 
and a portion of Mansheld’s corps was sent to his 
aid. The venerable soldier went with two of his 
brigades, but he was mortally wounded and was 
borne to the rear. 

“Go to that regiment on the right, Captain Som- 
ers, and tell the colonel not to let his men break on 
any account,” said the general. 

Somers dashed away, and stood before broken 
fragments of a regiment, with hardly a commis- 
sioned officer left in the line. They were noble and 
brave fellows, and they were yielding only when 
there seemed to be no one left to lead them. They 
were giving way, and making a gap in the line, 
through which the desperate rebels could burst and 
overwhelm the column. 

The staff officer saw at a glance the state of the 
case. He blamed not the men ; it was the fault of 
the cowardly officer upon whom the com.mand had 
devolved. He was weak and inefficient ; at least, he 
was not man enough for such a trying emergency. 

“The general desires to hold this line, at all 
hazards,” said Somers, saluting the officer. “Where 
is the general of this brigade?” 

“He has got his hands full yonder,” replied the 
captain in command of the regiment. 


FIGHTING JOE 


15 ^ 


“You must hold this position without fail.” 

“Can’t hold It.” 

“Yes, you can!” exclaimed Somers, fiercely. 

“I can’t hold It any longer.” 

“Forward, my brave boys. The day is ours if 
we stand up to it a little while longer !” shouted he 
to the hard-pressed troops, whose thin ranks were 
rapidly becoming thinner under the fierce fire to 
which they were subjected. “Follow me!” he 
added. In clarion tones, as he swung his sword In 
the air. 

A faint cheer burst from the ranks of the regi- 
ment, showing that they had not wholly lost their 
spirit. They clutched their muskets tighter, and 
looked sternly towards the rebel line. 

“Don’t spoil your record for this day, my gallant 
fellows,” continued Somers. “You have done glo- 
riously; stick to it to the end.” 

“Who are you ?” said a gruff fellow In the ranks. 

“Captain Somers, of the general’s staff. He 
expects you to hold this line. He sent me down to 
you. Shall I tell him you are a pack of cowards? 
Or shall I tell him you have done your duty, and 
been cut to pieces in the place where he put you?” 

“You bet!” added the gruff fellow. “Come, 
boys !” 

“Follow me!” shouted Somers, as he urged his 
foaming steed through the ranks and waved his 
sword over his head. 


154i 


FIGHTING JOE 


“He’s the chap ! Go in, boys,” cried one of the 
men, as the ranks closed up, and they followed the 
intrepid staff officer back to the position from 
which they had retreated. 

The rebels had seen the break and were swift to 
take advantage of it. They rushed forward, whoop- 
ing like savages; but the fragmentary regiment 
now stood like a wall of iron, and poured a volley 
into the advancing horde, before which they 
quailed, and then retreated. 

“Bravo! my noble fellows. ‘Fighting Joe’ is 
looking at you, and he shall know all about it.” 

“Hurrah!” shouted the brave men, who had 
gathered new life and hope from the inspiring 
words of the young staff officer. 

“You will stand firm — won’t you?” demanded 
Somers, 

“Hurrah !” yelled the reorganized, revivified lit- 
tle force, so heartily that Somers fell back from the 
front to return to his position at the side of the 
general. 

“Captain Somers !” said a familiar voice, almost 
in a yell. “Somers, by all that is grand and 
beautiful !” 

Somers turned, and saw a man approaching him 
from the ranks of an adjoining regiment. He was 
dressed in the uniform of an officer, but he had a 
musket in his hand. He was begrimed with smoke. 


FIGHTING JOE 


155 


and his cheek was blackened by close contact with 
the piece in his hand. 

“Major de Banyan!” replied Somers, as his old 
friend rushed up to his side and seized his hand. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I happened up here on business, and I went 
in as a volunteer on my own hook,” replied De 
Banyan, still shaking the hand of the staff officer, 
though the bullets were whistling and the shot and 
shell were roaring around him. 

“That’s like you. Have you no position?” 

“I am a private just now.” 

“By order of the general commanding the first 
corps, I place you in command of this broken regi- 
ment,” said Somers, not doubting that he could 
soon procure a confirmation of his deed. 

“Good ! That reminds me ” 

“No, it doesn’t; no what-you-call-’ems,” laughed 
Somers. 

“You are right, Somers. I have hardly told a 
story since we parted.” 

At this moment the brigadier-general rode up, 
and Somers referred the matter of the command to 
him. When he learned what had happened, he 
installed Major de Banyan in the temporary charge 
of the regiment. Somers said a few words to the 
boys to reconcile them to their new commander. 
He told them who and what De Banyan was; the 
major stepped in front of them and went to work 


156 


FIGHTING JOE 


with his usual skill and bravery. Somers left his 
friend, with a promise to see him again as soon as 
possible, and rode back to the general. 

There was a certain piece of woods on the right 
which the general regarded as the key to the posi- 
tion, and which he had determined to take and to 
hold. He was in the act of riding forward for the 
purpose of examining this point in person, its he 
did on all important occasions. Somers reported 
to him just as he was leaving the front of the most 
advanced line of troops. He continued his bold 
reconnaissance till he reached the top of the hill, 
where he dismounted and went forward on foot. 
He coolly and carefully surveyed the ground, re- 
turned to his horse and remounted. 

The storm of musket-balls from the point of 
woods was kept up all this time with the most de- 
termined vigor. The erect, manly form of “Fight- 
ing Joe” had been conspicuous on the field all the 
morning, and the rebels had fired at him individ- 
ually hundreds of times, but he seem.ed to bear a 
charmed life. He had been spared to complete 
the work he had begun, and which he had so ably 
and successfully carried forward. 

As he mounted his horse, he sent Somers ofi on 
a mission to the batteries of artillery planted on 
the ridge behind him. It was in the midst of one 
of the hottest fires of the day. Three men dropped 
near the general. He turned and started for an- 


FIGHTING JOE 


157 


other part of the field, but he had hardly advanced 
a pace before he was struck in the foot by a rifle- 
ball. 

“You are wounded, general,” said Somers, re- 
turning to the spot. 

“Carry the order I gave you. Captain Somers,” 
replied he, with an expression of pain on his noble 
features. 

Somers galloped off to execute his mission. 

The general still sat his horse, and gave direc- 
tions for the capture and holding of the point he 
had examined at the peril of his precious life. The 
surgeon advised him to leave the field, but he re- 
fused to do so. He swayed backward and for- 
ward, reeling from faintness in his saddle. Still he 
looked about him, to carry out the purpose which 
filled his mind. 

“There’s a regiment on the right of us. Order 
it forward! Crawford and Gordon are coming 
up. Tell them to take those woods and hold them, 
and it is our fight!” said he, feebly, but with em- 
phasis. 

He fainted, but partially recovered, and rode 
slowly and reluctantly to the rear, after he had 
sent word to General Sumner that he was wounded. 


CHAPTER XV 


AFTER THE BATTLE 

General Sumner was close at hand with his 
corps. He saw the wounded commander, spoke 
to him, and passed on to complete the work which 
had been so far accomplished, apparently, that it 
only remained to hold what had already been 
gained. 

“Fighting Joe” had virtually contended with the 
whole rebel army, for the attack on the left and 
in the center was delayed for hours after the vic- 
tory on the right had been won. He had done his 
part in the day’s work nobly and successfully, and 
there his responsibility for the results of the battle 
terminated. 

Somers went to the rear with his wounded gen- 
eral, but when assured that the injury, though very 
severe, was not dangerous, and that he could be of 
no service to him, returned to the field, resolved to 
act as a volunteer. There was heavy fighting in 
the woods, where Crawford and Gordon were ex- 
ecuting the last order of the commander of the 
158 


FIGHTING JOE 


159 


first corps. The rebels, by the delay in the Union 
attack on the left and center, were enabled to send 
forward fresh troops, and the combat deepened 
until the woods blazed with fire. 

The young staff officer rushed in and hastily re- 
ported to General Crawford as a volunteer. He 
was cordially thanked, his services accepted, and he 
was directed to use his own judgment. There were 
plenty of exhausted regiments vainly struggling to 
roll back the tide of defeat which was setting fierce- 
ly against them. Hundreds of gallant officers lay 
dead and wounded upon the ground, and there was 
abundance of work for any brave leader who had 
the nerve to do it. 

Somers attempted to rally the broken ranks and 
close up the wide gaps which had been made by the 
fearful carnage; but Crawford was forced back, 
and what had been gained on the front was lost. 
At this crisis, General Franklin came up with fresh 
troops, and the ground which had been lost was 
regained, not to be again abandoned. 

The excitement was over, and Somers began to 
think that he had a body as well as a spirit. He 
was thoroughly exhausted when he left the field of 
his last labor and rode over to the point where he 
had left Major de Banyan. 

“What’s the matter, my dear boy?” demanded 
the major, as he rode up to the begrimed soldier. 
“Are you wounded?” 


160 


FIGHTING JOE 


“No,” replied Somers, languidly; but he hardly 
knew what did ail him. 

“You are as pale as death. Are you sure you 
are not wounded?” asked the major, tenderly and 
anxiously. 

“I don’t think I am.” 

“Dismount and let me overhaul you. I’m sure 
you are in a bad condition,” continued the veteran, 
as he took the hand of the staff officer. 

“I don’t feel very well,” added Somers. 

Things began to look very shaky before him ; he 
felt a deadly nausea, and before he could get off his 
horse he sank fainting into the arm.s of his friend. 
The major took him from his saddle and laid him 
on the ground. He was alarmed, and tore open his 
coat to examine the vital parts of his body; but 
there was no wound, nor even a spot of blood to in- 
dicate one. He procured a canteen of water, sprin- 
kled his face and rubbed his temples with his 
hands. 

Captain Somers had only fainted from exhaus- 
tion consequent upon the severe trials of the pre- 
ceding night and the excitement and fatigue he 
had undergone during the battle. The skilful at- 
tentions of De Banyan soon restored him to con- 
sciousness, but he w’as as weak and feeble as an 
infant. He had eaten only one of the biscuits he 
had taken in the morning, and had performed his 
trying duties on an empty stomach. His health. 


FIGHTING JOE 161 

already shattered, was not equal to the fatigues he 
had been called upon to endure. 

“There is nothing further for you or me to do 
here. We have won the field, and if the rest of the 
line does its work we shall have the day,” said De 
Banyan. “Now we will go and have you taken 
care of.” 

“l am willing, for I can’t stand this any longer,” 
replied Somers, feebly. 

The major helped him on his horse again, and 
walked by his side as they slowly made their way 
to the rear. Every house in the vicinity of the 
battle-field was filled with wounded soldiers, and 
there was no spot where De Banyan could find a 
resting-place for his patient ; but he obtained some 
refreshment for him, which in a measure restored 
his strength. 

“I’m afraid you are going to be sick, Somers,’^ 
said the major, anxiously, as he gazed upon the 
pale face of his friend. 

“I feel so myself.” 

“I am bound to see you in a comfortable place. 
Do you know of one?” 

“The farther we go from this vicinity, the more 
likely we shall be to find one. I must report my- 
self at headquarters first.” 

“Right; and you will find your servant there.” 

They went to the place where the headquarters 
had been located, but the wounded general had 


162 


FIGHTING JOE 


been conveyed to Centerville. Somers, however, 
reported himself to the chief of staff, and found 
Alick. 

“Major de Banyan, as sure as you was born!” 
exclaimed the servant. 

“I’m glad to see you, Alick,” returned the 
major. “Your master is sick, and we must look 
out for him.” 

“Yes, sar,” replied the faithful fellow, who pro- 
ceeded at once to saddle the extra horse. 

As yet nothing had been or could be learned of 
the result of the battle, and the little party moved 
off in search of accommodations for the sick officer. 
De Banyan declared that he must get away from 
the terrible scenes of death and mutilation in the 
neighborhood of the battle-field. He was physi- 
cian enough to understand that the nerves of his 
patient were much shattered, and that he needed 
absolute quiet. 

“I know a house which I think must be de- 
serted,” said Somers, “but it is eight or ten miles 
off.” 

“So much the better, if you can manage to get 
there,” replied De Banyan, who was mounted on 
Somers’ spare horse, while Alick walked in the 
rear. 

“I should not be very welcome there.” 

“No matter for that. I will take possession of 
the place in the name of the United States of 


FIGHTING JOE 


163 


America. After the battle of Magenta — there was 
a quiet time, I suppose,” laughed the major. 
‘AVhere is the place you speak of?” 

“It is the Hasbrouk mansion.” And as they 
rode slowly along, Somers told his companion of 
the exciting events which had occurred there, and 
of those which had followed it since his arrival in 
Maryland. 

In return, De Banyan related the incidents which 
had happened in the — th Massachusetts, of which 
Somers was still an officer; of its march from the 
Peninsula, and its terrible baptism of blood at 
Groveton, where Captain Benson had fallen mor- 
tally wounded; and other red fields in which the 
regiment had been reduced to a mere skeleton. 
There were a thousand things for each to tell, and 
Somers almost forgot his weakness in the interest 
he felt in the history of his company and his regi- 
ment. 

“But, Somers, how is that pretty young lady 
who used to knit stockings?” asked the major. 

“She is well ; I saw her the day I left Boston. I 
have that same pair of socks on my feet now. I 
put them on yesterday, when we went forward.” 

“Well, but how do you get on?” 

“Get on?” 

“Bah ! You know what I mean.” 

“Fm sure I don’t,” replied Somers, faintlyi 
though a soft blush colored his pale cheek. 


164f 


FIGHTING JOE 


“You are courting, of course.” 

“That’s nonsense.” 

“I know it is nonsense, but young fellows like 
you are given to such folly.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Pooh!” 

“She’s my friend, and I am hers.” 

“Of course you are.” 

“Her father is a rich merchant, and I am noth- 
ing but a poor boy. I have no idea of any such 
thing as you speak of.” 

“Haven’t you, indeed? Let me tell you, Somers, 
if she was the daughter of the President of the 
United States, she isn’t any too good for you ; and 
if she’s offish on that score, I should like the privi- 
lege of telling her so,” added the major, with no 
little spirit. 

“That’s nonsense, major.” 

“If Miss What’s her name, Somers?” 

“Lilian Ashford.” 

“That’s an amazing pretty name, Somers. If 
she’s too good to marry a brigadier-general, and 
such a brigadier-general as 

“I’m not a brigadier.” 

“But you will be before the war is over.” 

“I shall not. You are absurd, major.” 

“Perhaps I am.” 

“I don’t feel now as though I should be anything 
much longer.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


165 


“Don’t give it up, my boy; you will be as good 
as new in a week or two.” 

“I promised to write to Lilian.” 

“Good! Do it, then.” 

“I have no hopes in that quarter. We are only 
friends. I like her very well, but we don’t talk of 
anything but those socks.” 

“I say, Somers, when you are a brigadier, and 
have made your fortune, you will want a coat-of- 
arms. Let me suggest one.” 

“A coat-of-arms 1” laughed Somers. 

“Certainly; you will want one. All great men 
have one.” 

“And you would put a pair of socks on it?” 

“Certainly; that’s the idea. But where are we 
going, Somers?” 

“To the Hasbrouk mansion, and we are nearly 
there,” replied the sick man. 

Somers had chosen this place on account of its 
retired situation, and because he could think of no 
other suitable house to be sick in. In spite of his 
cheerful nature, he had some dismal forebodings in 
regard to the future. Nothing but the inspiration 
of his lively companion’s presence kept him from 
sinking under the pain and weakness which assailed 
him. On the road, by the prudent counsels of his 
friend, he had stopped several times to rest and 
refresh himself. He had never felt so weak and 
shattered before, and he feared it would be many 


166 


FIGHTING JOE 


a long day before he was able again to take his 
place on the staff of the general or in the line of his 
regiment. 

In the middle of the afternoon, while the guns 
were still thundering at Antietam, the little party 
reached the Hasbrouk mansion. Major de Banyan 
took upon himself the whole charge of gaining ad- 
mission, and, with his usual bold front, he entered 
without knocking. The family, which had left the 
house while hostilities were in progress around it, 
had now returned. Alick took the horses, and 
Somers followed the major into the mansion. To 
the surprise of both they were immediately con- 
fronted by Maud, who had moved her patients to 
her. own home when the battle commenced, early 
in the morning. 

De Banyan politely stated his business, at the 
same time acting as though his stay was a settled 
thing, whether the family were willing or not. 

“We cannot accommodate you, sir,” replied 
Maud, as haughtily as though she had been the 
queen of “my Maryland.” 

“Sorry for it, miss; but I shall be obliged to take 
possession.” 

“We have three wounded officers here now,” 
added she. 

“They are rebels.” 

“They are Confederate officers, sir, or they 
would not be here.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


167 


“There will be one here who is not a Confeder- 
ate officer. My friend, Captain Somers, must be 
accommodated, and I shall be obliged to turn out 
the rebel officers, unless you can find room for him 
without my doing so.” 

“I will not submit to this insolence !” exclaimed 
she, rushing out of the room. 

“Good! Now wait till I find a room for you, 
Somers.” 

“I would not have come here if I had not sup^ 
posed the house was deserted. I feel faint again, 
major.” 

“Don’t faint just yet.” 

De Banyan made himself entirely at home; 
brought water, cologne, a smelling-bottle, and 
finally set up his friend for another brief period. 
He then went upstairs, selected a front room, 
which, from its contents, was evidently the apart- 
ment of Maud herself. He set Alick at work in 
the chamber making a fire, and otherwise preparing 
it for the reception of the sick officer. 

The major then conducted his patient to the com- 
fortable quarters he had secured and put him to 
bed. All the house could furnish he obtained, with 
or without leave, and did all he could to improve 
the condition of his sick friend. At night Somers 
was in a raging fever, and the major was greatly 
alarmed at his condition. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED 

Captain Somers knew very little of what took 
place at the Hasbrouk mansion within the next 
three weeks, being delirious during the greater por- 
tion of this time. Major de Banyan effected a 
peace with the family within twenty-four hours, 
and obtained all that he required in the service of 
the sick man without fighting for it. An old but 
skilful physician was procured, who pronounced 
the disease a severe case of typhoid fever, which 
presented many alarming symptoms. 

The major was a tender and a skilful nurse ; but 
he felt that another presence than his own was 
necessary in the sick-room. The sufferer needed 
the soothing care of a woman, and De Banyan sent 
a letter to Pinchbrook, containing a full statement 
of the alarming condition of the captain, and at 
the end of a week his mother came, attended by his 
father. 

The Hasbrouk family, though cold and unsym- 
pathizing toward their unwelcome guests, afforded 
168 


FIGHTING JOE 


169 


Mrs. Somers every convenience for the discharge 
of her motherly duty. De Banyan, when com* 
pelled by the expiration of his furlough to return 
to his regiment, distinctly informed Maud and her 
father that if any disrespect was shown to Mrs. 
Somers or her husband, or any hindrance thrown 
in their way, he would cause them all to be turned 
out of the house, and do his best to have the prop* 
erty immediately confiscated. The threat had the 
desired effect, and though Mrs. Somers could not 
help feeling that she was an intruder on the prem- 
ises, her discomfort was not increased by any mis- 
conduct on the part of the host or his family. 

For days Somers’ life seemed to hang only by 
a thread. His devoted mother trembled over him 
during the long and weary nights. She and her 
husband, assisted by the faithful Al'ick, took the 
whole care of the sufferer, rarely seeing any mem- 
ber of the family. A separate table was set for 
them, and their presence was avoided as though 
they carried the pestilence in their garments. They 
were the “mud-sills” of the North, and there could 
be no communication between them. 

At the end of three weeks the danger had passed 
away and the patient began to improve. In a short 
time, under the skilful care of the old doctor, he 
was able to go downstairs, and his father at once 
made arrangements for removing him to his home 
in Pinchbrook, anxious to escape as soon as possible 


170 


FIGHTING JOE 


from the cold hospitality of the Hasbrouks. On 
the day before the intended departure a servant 
announced that Major Riggleston wished to see 
him and would meet him in the parlor. Attended 
by his mother, he went downstairs. 

“I am glad to see you, Captain Somers, but sorry 
to find you so ill,” said the major, when Mrs. Som- 
ers had been duly introduced. 

“Thank you, major. I have had rather a rough 
time of it.” 

“You were fortunate in having the attentions of 
your good mother.” 

“I should have died without her,” added the 
captain, glancing affectionately at his mother. 

“Well, we don’t know about those things, 
Thomas,” said Mrs. Somers, meekly. 

“I learned that you were here three weeks ago, 
and I intended to call upon you before this time,” 
continued the major. “You know there was a little 
affair between us that needed clearing up.” 

“It would done no good to come much afore 
now; the poor boy wan’t fit to be seen. He’s had 
an awful hard time on’t, and nothing but Almighty 
Power has kept him from the grave,” interposed 
Mrs. Somers, wiping away the tears that started in 
her eye when she thought of the days in which her 
son was trembling between life and death. “If I 
can only once get him home, he sha’n’t leave me 


FIGHTING JOE 171 

again. He went off afore when he was no more fit 
to go than a baby.” 

“The captain is a very useful person in the 
army.” 

“Well, I suppose he is, but there’s no sense nor 
reason in his going off when he ain’t fit to go. We 
shall get away from here to-morrow.” 

“My mother doesn’t like this place very well,” 
said Somers, with a smile. “The people here are 
not remarkably fond of me.” 

“Why not?” 

“I forgot that you did not know anything about 
it. I will tell you now. Major Riggleston, and I’m 
sure you will not blame me for the rude words I 
spoke to you when you understand the matter.” 

“You did the fair thing when you discovered 
your mistake ; but you spoke to your general about 
the affair, and he does not regard me with favor. 
I came over here partly for the purpose of afford- 
ing you an opportunity to clear me from the impu- 
tation that rests upon my honor. An explanation 
from you will set the matter right.” 

“I can’t explain it myself,” added Somers. “I 
only know that you are not the man who entrapped 
me, and whom I shot in the head.” 

Somers then related the history of the affair in 
the house where they were then assembled, and 
that which occurred in the rebel lines. Major Rig- 
gleston listened to the narrative with deep interest, 


172 


FIGHTING JOE 


as did Mrs. Somers, whose husband had gone with 
Alick to examine the battle-fields of Antietam and 
South Mountain. 

“Sakes alive! who ever heard of such things!” 
exclaimed Mrs. Somers, when her son had finished 
his exciting story. “It’s a wonder that you wan’t 
killed, Thomas.” 

“I understand it all now. Captain Somers,” said 
the major, rather disconcerted. “Though I am not 
at all to blame in the premises, the affair more 
nearly concerns me than you may suppose.” 

“I exonerate you entirely. Major Riggleston,” 
continued Somers. 

“There, Thomas, you mustn’t talk any more 
now,” interposed the matron. 

“I won’t say anything more, but I must settle 
this affair, mother.” 

At this moment the door opened, and Maud 
Hasbrouk was on the point of entering, but when 
she saw that the parlor was already occupied she 
turned to retire. 

“These people in here!” said she, contemptu- 
ously, but loud enough to be heard by all in the 
room. 

“No matter, Maud; go in, if Fred is there,” 
said another person, behind her. 

“He is there; he is a friend of Captain Somers,” 
sneered she, as she walked into the apartment as 
though she had been a superior being. 


FIGHTING JOE 


176 


“How IS your health, Captain Somers?” asked 
the person who followed Maud. 

He was an officer, and his head was tied up with 
a bandage. 

“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed Somers, start- 
ing from his chair. 

“Goodness!” ejaculated Mrs. Somers, fearful 
that the excitement her son exhibited would throw 
him into another fever. “What ails the boy?” 

“You are certainly the person at whom I fired,” 
added Somers, as he gazed at the form and fea- 
tures of the newcomer. 

“No doubt of that. Captain Somers,” replied 
the major. “And a very nice time I’ve had of it, 
too.” 

“I hope some one will serve you in the same 
way,” said Maud, spitefully. 

“For massy sake!” exclaimed Mrs. Somers, 
fearful in the gathering events that some one 
would serve her darling boy in the same way. 
“What has Thomas done?” 

“He is a ” 

“Not another word, Maud,” said the wounded 
major, sternly. “He did his duty, and I am not 
the one to blame him for it.” 

“I hope you will do yours, major, if the circum- 
stances ever place you in the same situation.” 

“I should, and Captain Somers would not blame 
me for it.” 


174 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Certainly not/’ replied Somers. 

“He saved your life and mine, Maud, and we 
will not quarrel now.” 

The proud beauty was silent and sullen, while 
Somers gazed in wonder from one Major Riggle- 
ston to the other Major Riggleston. 

“You understand it now, Captain Somers?” said 
the loyal major. 

“I do; it is all very plain now. You must ac- 
knowledge that I made a very natural mistake.” 

“It is not the first time I have been taken for my 
brother. He is two years older than I am, but we 
look very much alike.” 

When they were together, several points of dif- 
ference could be observed, and the resemblance 
was not now so great as it had been before the bat- 
tle of Antietam, for the rebel major had grown 
thinner and paler under the suffering induced by 
his wound. At the time Somers had met him, the 
similarity in form and features, in voice and man- 
ner, was so great that a person of ordinary percep- 
tion, meeting them at different times, could not 
have told one from the other. The rebel major 
had changed so much during his illness that the 
difference was now more perceptible. 

“It never occurred to me that you had seen my 
brother,” said Major Fred, who was the loyal 
brother. “If it had, I should have understood the 
whole matter.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


175 


“I understood it perfectly,” added Major 
Ernest, who was the rebel brother. “I confess, too, 
that I took advantage of the circumstance.” 

“But where did you get my safe-conduct?” asked 
Fred. 

“I picked it up the night we were at home,” 
replied Ernest, rather sheepishly. 

“That was hardly fair.” 

“All fair in war, Fred.” 

“Wpll, then, it is one of the disadvantages of 
having a brother on the wrong side, Ernest.” 

“That name, Ernest, reminds me that I heard 
it at your father’s house, in Frederick,” added 
Somers. 

“Captain Somers,” said the loyal major, very 
seriously, “you m.ay think I am not as patriotic as 
I ought to be. You know that my brother was at 
my father’s house, and that I saw him there. You 
may think I ought to have handed him over as a 
prisoner of war.” 

“Thomas don’t think any such thing,” said Mrs. 
Somers. 

“I have nothing to say about that; it is a family 
affair,” added Captain Somers. “I need only say 
that I regard you. Major Fred Riggleston, as a 
loyal man, and I shall write the general a letter 
containing a full explanation of my blunder.” 

“Thank you, captain,” replied Fred. “That will 
set me right.” 


176 


FIGHTING JOE 


“By the way, Captain Somers,” said the rebel 
major, “there is a matter between us, also.” 

“What I agreed in honor and confidence to do I 
have done, and shall continue to do,” replied Som- 
ers, alluding to the matter of the rebel countersign, 
imparted to him by the wounded major. 

“There, Thomas, you mustn’t say another 
word,” interposed Mrs. Somers, once more. 

Maud left the room, disgusted with the proceed- 
ings and dissatisfied with the conduct of her lover, 
who persistently refused to revile the Yankees 
present. When she had gone. Major Ernest 
walked up to Somers and, in a low tone, remarked 
that he should never again serve in the rebel army. 
The captain commended his resolution, and hoped 
he would be able to do more and better than this, 
and be found in the ranks of his country’s defend- 
ers in the hour of peril. He shook his head and 
made no reply. 

Somers was conducted to his chamber by his 
mother, who insisted that he should lie down, for 
she greatly feared the effects of the excitement to 
which he had been subjected. Late in the evening, 
Captain Somers, senior, returned from the battle- 
fields, and his wife regaled him for an hour with 
the adventures of their son, concerning which Cap- 
tain Somers, junior, had up to this day preserved a 
discreet silence. 

On the following day, Somers, with his parents, 


FIGHTING JOE 


177 


started for home. The feeble condition of the in- 
valid compelled them to travel very slowly, and 
remain two or three days at each of the principal 
cities through which they passed on the journey. 
Consequently it was nearly a fortnight before they 
reached Pinchbrook, where the hero was duly wel- 
comed, and where, in a few days after his arrfval, 
he had the happiness to receive a visit from Lilian 
Ashford. 

She was as gentle and beautiful as ever, and 
smiled so sweetly upon him, and pitied him so ten- 
derly, that he almost found it in his heart to rejoice 
at the suffering which had procured him such a 
blissful meeting. Lilian told him how disappointed 
her grandmother was at not seeing him, as he had 
promised, and that she still lived in the hope of 
meeting him. Of course, Somers proposed to keep 
the broken engagement as soon as he was able to 
visit the city. 

Lilian was accompanied by her father, who man- 
ifested a hearty interest in the young aide-de-camp, 
and joined warmly with his daughter in the invita- 
tion to visit his house. This was hopeful, and 
afforded Somers many pleasant reflections, the na- 
ture of which we need hardly explain to our cun- 
ning readers. The visitors departed, and the in- 
valid’s suffering body contained a hopeful spirit. 


CHAPTER XVII 


DOWN IN TENNESSEE 

It was four months before Captain Somers was 
able to visit Boston, so severely had his constitu- 
tion been shattered by the fatigues of the service 
and by the strain of exciting events upon his ner- 
vous system. Lilian Ashford and her father vis- 
ited Pinchbrook several times during this period, 
and an excellent understanding was established be- 
tween the captain and the young lady. The visit 
was returned in the spring, when Somers was able 
to endure the fatigue, and, as his health gradually 
improved, he repeated his calls until they occurred 
as often as once a week. 

Grandmother Ashford had abundant opportu- 
nity now to tell all about the “last war,” and Som- 
ers listened with the attention which so interesting 
a narrative deserved. Perhaps it was fortunate 
for the venerable lady that her eyesight was im- 
paired, or she might have been wounded to observe 
that her patient auditor looked more at Lilian than 
at herself. On one of these occasions the old lady 
was so imprudent as to leave the young couple in 
178 


FIGHTING JOE 


179 


the parlor, and something passed between them 
which seemed to make Somers very much pleased 
with himself and with Lilian, and to make Lilian 
equally well pleased with herself and with Somers. 
What this was, the experienced reader may pos- 
sibly be able to divine, but, as our story relates 
mainly to the military history of our hero, it can- 
not properly be introduced. 

Captain Somers was certainly improving in 
health, but so slowly that there was no present 
prospect of his being able to join his regiment, of 
report on the staff of his beloved general, now 
commanding the Grand Army of the Potomac. His 
physician positively refused to permit him even to 
visit the scene of active operations ; and after com- 
municating with “Fighting Joe” by letter, he de- 
cided to resign his position in the — th Massachu- 
setts, for his continued absence not only deprived 
the regiment of his services, but prevented some de- 
serving officer, who performed his duties, from re- 
ceiving the pay and promotion to which he was 
justly entitled. But he did not take this decisive 
step till he was assured by the general that he could 
have an appointment on the staff as soon as he was 
able to discharge the duties of the position. 

While Somers was absent from the army the 
great battle of Fredericksburg had been fought, 
and the brave, noble and Christian Burnside, per- 
plexed by the treachery of seeming friends, by the 


180 


FIGHTING JOE 


over-zealous movements of real ones, and by the 
machinations of envious and jealous officers, who 
should have been foremost to support him, was 
badly defeated. The rank and file behaved nobly, 
fought well, and the day ought to have been won ; 
but the parts of the Grand Army were disjointed ; 
they did not act in concert, and portions of the 
force were left to be mercilessly slaughtered. The 
devoted and unselfish Burnside shouldered the re- 
sponsibility, and stepped down from the exalted 
military pinnacle to which he had been raised with- 
out ambition, and against his own desires. 

He was succeeded by Major-General Hooker, 
the “bravest of the brave,” and one of the ablest 
soldiers which the war had developed. He had 
fought and lost the great battle of Chancellors- 
ville; but he, too, was a victim of jealousy and in- 
decision on the part of men whose purposes were 
their own, instead of their suffering country’s. 

The culminating battle of the war was fought at 
Gettysburg by his successor. It was a decisive vic- 
tory, for the defiant foe was penetrating the heart 
of the North, and there could be no trifling with 
the terrible fact that stared the nation full in the 
face. The generals and the army fought nobly, 
and the exulting rebels were hurled back, shattered 
and discomfited, to the soil of Virginia. 

The battle of Gettysburg was immediately fob 
lowed by the surrender of Vicksburg and Port 


FIGHTING JOE 


181 


Hudson, and operations on the West and South- 
west attracted the attention of the country during 
the remainder of the year, while the army of the 
Potomac was comparatively quiet in Virginia. The 
battle of Chickamauga Creek was fought, and the 
Union army defeated, and only saved from disaster 
by the skill and firmness of General Thomas. 

The Confederate authorities, taking advantage 
of the lull in the storm of battle in the East, sent 
General Longstreet and his corps to the West, 
which being understood in Washington, the elev- 
enth and twelfth corps of the army of the Potomac 
were dispatched, under command of General 
Hooker, to counteract this addition to the force of 
the rebels. 

Captain Somers had impatiently watched the 
progress of events in the East and in the West, and 
mourned over the necessity which compelled him to 
remain inactive. He had attended to his health, 
and felt that he was completely restored, even be- 
fore his stubborn physician would acknowledge the 
fact. But in the month of September, when he had 
been nearly a year off duty, the doctor gave him a 
“clean bill of health.” He had employed much of 
his time, since his strength would permit, in athletic 
exercises — in rowing, in gymnastics, and in hard 
labor in the garden. He was heavier and stronger 
than he had ever been before, and he was ashamed 
to remain any longer in idleness when the country 


182 


FIGHTING JOE 


needed his arm. He wrote to the general again, 
just as the stalwart hero was on the point of start- 
ing for the West. 

Three days after, Somers received a reply, in- 
forming him that in a short time he would receive 
a commission as a captain in the regular army, and 
an appointment on his staff as senior aide-de-camp. 
To this agreeable intelligence was added the hardly 
less agreeable fact that Major de Banyan and Cap- 
tain Barkwood would also be members of his mili- 
tary family. 

“Glory hallelujah!” shouted Somers, as he 
rushed into the humble cottage at Pinchbrook. 

“What on airth is the matter now, Thomas?” 
asked his mother, dropping the wet dishcloth on 
the floor in her astonishment. 

“Read that, mother!” shouted the captain. 

“I hain’t got my glasses, Thomas. What is it?” 

“A captain in the regular army! A soldier for 
life ! What will Lilian say to that?” 

“Dear me! Well, that is news,” added Mrs. 
Somers, who, however, was not very clear in re- 
gard to the distinction between a regular and a 
volunteer officer. “I suppose the gal will think 
you are a pretty smart boy. I hope it won’t make 
you proud and vain, Thomas.” 

“I’m proud, mother, but I guess it won’t make 
me vain. I tell you what, it’s no small thing to be 


FIGHTING JOE 183 

a captain in the regular army. I think Lilian won’t 
like me any less for this.” 

“Cat’s foot! She won’t like you any more. If 
she does, she ain’t the gal I take her to be. Do 
you suppose she will want you off all the time, when 


“Come, mother, you are getting ahead of my 
time,” said the young captain, with a blush. “Well, 
I wish the papers would come, for I am in a hurry 
to be at work again.” 

“They’ll come soon enough,” added the mother, 
sadly, as she thought of another long separation 
and the dismal hours that would be spent in wait- 
ing for intelligence of him after a battle had been 
fought. 

The next day came a long letter from De Ban- 
yan, in which he congratulated himself and his 
friend on the prospect before them, and proposed 
to meet him at Louisville on the journey to the new 
field of operations. The commission and the ap- 
pointment soon followed, and Somers again donned 
his staff uniform. The hardest thing before him 
was to leave home, which had become doubly en- 
deared to him by his long stay. He had seen his 
twin brother, now in the navy, during a brief visit 
the latter made to Pinchbrook, when sent to Bos- 
ton as prize-master of a brig he had captured. This 
was the only time they had met since the depar- 
ture of Thomas at the commencement of the war. 


184 


FIGHTING JOE 


Mrs. Somers was a woman of tender feelings, 
and she wept bitterly as she again bade her son 
adieu and gave him into the keeping of the Al- 
mighty Father, who had protected and preserved 
him through so many perils. In Boston, as may 
well be supposed, he hastened to the house of Mr. 
Ashford and saw Lilian, who had already been in- 
formed of his intended departure. She now had a 
deeper interest in him than ever before, and she 
was sad, but hopeful. Another earnest prayer to 
God for his safety was to be added daily and 
nightly to those which went up from the humble 
home in Pinchbrook. 

“Do you see this bundle, Lilian?” said Somers, 
as he opened the parcel in his hand. 

“What is it?” 

“Don’t you see?” 

“Socks!” 

“They are the banner under, or, rather, over, 
which I fight,” said he, handing her the articles. 

“They are hardly worn at all,” replied she, with 
a sad smile. 

“But they have been on my feet in every battle 
in which I have been engaged. I never wear them 
except in a fight, for I don’t want to wear them 
out.” 

“I will knit you some more.” 

“But they would not be these, if you did,” 
laughed Somers, trying to be as cheerful as pos- 


FIGHTING JOE 


185 


sible. “These socks have helped me to do my 
duty, and they introduced me to you, which is the 
best part of it. When the war is over I am going 
to put them in a glass case and keep them in my 
room to remind me of the scenes of the past.” 

“You are a funny fellow, Thomas,” said she. 

“Perhaps I am, but I mean all I say.” 

A great deal more was said, which we are afraid 
would look very silly to some wise and prudent 
people if we should transfer it to our page; but 
the words spoken by both were very earnest and 
sincere, though perhaps they were rather senti- 
mental, as might have been naturally expected un- 
der such circumstances. He spoke the good-by 
and left the house. He did not see the tears shed 
by Lilian after he had gone. More than her words, 
even, they told of her sincerity. Mr. Ashford was 
not at home when he called, and Somers paid his 
respects to him at his counting-room. The wealthy 
merchant was deeply interested in him, and readily 
accepted the fact which the intimacy between his 
daughter and the young soldier indicated. 

Followed by the prayers and the hopes of de- 
voted friends, he proceeded on his journey to the 
West. Alick, who had been at work in Pinch- 
brook during the year, accompanied him as his ser- 
vant. In due time he reached Louisville, where, 
in conformity with the arrangement, he met Major 
de Banyan, and together they repaired to Nash- 


186 


FIGHTING JOE 


ville. They had brought with them their saddles 
and other military equipments, but it was necessary 
to procure horses at this place. 

The headquarters of the eleventh and twelfth 
corps were at Bridgeport, on the Tennessee, about 
thirty miles from Chattanooga, which was the 
point at which the military operations centered. 
Though the country between Nashville and the 
advanced line of the Union army was in military 
possession of the loyal forces, it was in a very dis- 
turbed condition. There were strong Union men 
there, but the rebels predominated, and the region 
was infested with Confederate cavalry and irre- 
sponsible guerillas. The military railroad, by 
which the army received its supplies, was necessar- 
ily guarded by troops through every mile of its 
course. 

Having procured their horses, Somers and De 
Banyan proceeded by the railroad towards their 
destination. The destruction of a bridge about 
twenty miles from Bridgeport suspended the far- 
ther progress of the train, and our officers decided 
to accomplish the balance of the journey on horse- 
back. Each of them had a servant, and an extra 
horse to meet the contingencies of the service. 

“We shall not be able to find our way, Em 
afraid,” said Somers, as they rode along through 
a wild region. 


FIGHTING JOE 187 

“You forget that I am at home In this part of 
the country,” replied the major. 

“Are you?” 

“I was born and raised not twenty miles from 
this spot, in the town of Winchester, over in that 
direction,” he added, pointing to the northwest. 
“I know every foot of land about here, and I am 
indebted to that fact for my appointment on the 
general’s staff.” 

“Then we shall not be likely to get lost.” 

“No ; but the guerillas are as thick around here 
as raisins in a plum pudding. I suppose I should 
have an excellent opportunity to be hung if any of 
them should catch me.” 

“What did you come down here for, then?” 

“It makes no difference to me. I rather enjoy 
the excitement of the danger; besides, I should like 
to help restore my State to her allegiance.” 

“It is almost night, major. I don’t think it is 
prudent for us to beat about this region in the 
dark.” 

“It is safer to beat about than it is to lie down 
and go to sleep; but there is a house a couple of 
miles from here where a Union man used to live. 
We will stop there, if you like.” 

“I think we had better do so,” replied Somers^ 

“Perhaps we had, especially as it looks very 
much like a storm.” 

They reached the house, which was the residence 


188 


FIGHTING JOE 


of the owner of a large plantation. It had been 
an elegant establishment before the war, but it 
looked like waste and ruin around it. The trav- 
elers stopped before the mansion. De Banyan dis- 
mounted and, throwing the bridle-rein to his ser- 
vant, walked up to the front door. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE GUERILLAS AT SUPPER 

De Banyan knocked at the door, but, as no 
one answered his summons, he went in without 
further ceremony, Somers remaining on his horse 
to await the result of the interview. It was now 
quite dark ; the wind howled savagely through the 
trees and the rain began to fall in torrents. 

“Bad night, massa,” said Alick, as he drew his 
overcoat closer around him. 

“Yes; but we expect to stop at this house to- 
night,” replied the captain. 

“De storm make you sick again, massa.” 

“No, I think not.” 

“Must be careful, massa cap’n. I reckon dey 
has de fever ’n* agur right smart in dis yere coun- 
try.” 

“I don’t know,” replied Somers, carelessly, for 
he was thinking that his friend was absent a long 
time upon his mission. 

He waited a quarter of an hour longer, and be- 
gan to be impatient at De Banyan’s long absence. 
He thought the major must be havirsfg a very pleas- 
189 


190 


FIGHTING JOE 


ant interview with his old acquaintance and had 
forgotten that his friend was out in the storm wait- 
ing for him. At last his patience was completely 
exhausted, and he had it in his heart to rebuke the 
thoughtlessness of his companion. 

“Here, Alick, hold my horse,” said Somers, as 
he dismounted. “The major has gone to sleep 
and forgotten that we are waiting for him.” 

“Yes, massa; but dat ain’t much like de major, 
to forget you,” replied Alick, taking the rein. 

“No, it is not; but I’ll venture to say he is hav- 
ing a good time in the house.” 

Somers w^alked up to the front door and knocked 
with his fist. As in the former instance, it brought 
no response, and he repeated the summons with 
the butt of his pistol, but with no better success 
than before. It was evident that the family were 
very deaf, or that they occupied the rear of the 
house, where the sound could not reach them. Fol- 
lowing the example of De Banyan, he opened the 
door and entered. At the end of a long entry he 
saw a light through a crack, which he followed till 
it brought him to another door, at which he 
knocked. 

“What do you want?” demanded a large, rough, 
uncouth-looking man, who presented himself at the 
door. 

“Where is the gentleman that came in here half 
an hour ago?” asked Somers, rather impatiently. 


FIGHTING JOE 191 

“Haven’t any room,” replied the man, in a loud 
tone. 

“I asked where the gentleman was who came 
into the house half an hour ago,” repeated the 
captain. 

“I’m deef.” 

“I should think you were,” said the inquirer, in 
a low tone, after which he uttered his question 
again at the top of his lungs. 

“I don’t know him,” yelled the deaf man. 

“He came into this house.” 

“Four o’clock in the morning,” screamed the 
man. 

“Have you seen any one come into this house?” 
shouted Somers. 

“Blind in one ear, and deaf in one eye,” returned 
the man, with a grin. 

“Who lives here?” 

“I do.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Skinley.” 

“What are you?” 

“None o’ yer business.” 

“Do you live alone ?” 

“What’s that ter you?” 

“I want to see the man that came in here a while 
ago.” 

“Come in.” 

Somers did not like the looks of things at all, 


192 


FIGHTING JOE 


and if he had not been interested in De Banyan, he 
would have retired in disgust from the house ; as if 
was, he entered the room. As he did so he heard 
the sounds of coarse revelry, which suddenly burst 
upon his ear from an apartment farther in the rear 
of the mansion. 

“Mr. Skinley, I wish to see the gentleman who 
came in before me,” said Somers, putting his hand 
on his pistol. 

“Do yer?” 

“I do.” 

“Well, yer needn’t yell no more ; there ain’t none 
so deef as them that won’t hear. You kin see him,” 
replied the man, with a grin, which seemed to in- 
dicate that Somers had been made the victim of a 
practical joke. 

“Where is he?” 

“In yender,” replied Skinley, pointing to the 
door of the room from which the sounds of revelry 
had come. 

Somers had a great many doubts in regard to 
the situation. There was evidently a considerable 
body of men in the house. 

“Mr. Skinley ” 

“I ain’t Mister Skinley. I told you what my 
name was. My name’s Skinley.” 

“Well, Skinley.” 

“That sounds more like it, stranger. Now, 
what’s your name?” 


FIGHTING JOE 


193 


‘‘Somers.” 

“What are you?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Whar yer gwine?” 

“What’s that to you?” 

“All right, stranger.” 

“Now, Skinley, who are those men in yonder?” 
asked Somers, good-natured in spite of the circum- 
stances of doubt, and possibly peril, which sur- 
rounded him, as he pointed to the rear room. 

“Friends of mine.” 

“How many are there?” 

“Go in and count ’em. What yer want to know 
fur?” 

“A man in these times doesn’t generally have so 
many friends as you seem to have.” 

“I’m a good feller, Somers, and they all like 
me,” replied Skinley, laughing heartily. 

“You have one of my friends in there.” 

“How do you know?” 

“You said so.” 

“Well, Somers, a feller don’t alius know who his 
friends is in these times.” 

“But I know him; and, Skinley, would you be so 
kind as to call him out?” 

“It can’t be did,” said the uncouth abomination 
of a man, very positively. 

“Why not?” 

“Whar d’yer I’arn yer manners? He’s havin’ a 


194 


FIGHTING JOE 


bout o’ whiskey with the boys, and I’d as soon think 
o’ techin’ a pant’er at his grub as a sojer at his 
whiskey.” 

“If you tell him Somers is here, he will not take 
offense.” 

“Yes, he will. Them’s good fellers. Go in and 
jine ’em,” said Skinley, throwing the door wide 
open. 

Seated around a long table, on which there was 
still a plentiful supply of bacon and corn dodgers, 
and a great many bottles, were about twenty of the 
roughest-looking fellows the staff officer had ever 
laid eyes upon. At the end of the board was De 
Banyan, apparently as happy and contented as the 
rest of the party. Somers had no difficulty in 
promptly arriving at the conclusion that the men 
were guerillas. They had evidently drunk all the 
whiskey that was good for them. 

“Come in, Somers,” shouted the major, uproar- 
iously. “Come in, and we will make room for you. 
My friend Somers,” he added, turning to his wild 
companions. 

“Come in, Somers,” said half a dozen of the 
guerillas. 

“Hand him the whiskey,” put in one who sat at 
the farther end of the table. 

“You’ll have to excuse him, boys,” interposed 
De Banyan. “He never drinks whiskey; it doesn’t 
agree with him. Have you any French brandy?” 


FIGHTING JOE 


195 


“Not a drop.’’ 

The major knew they had not; he was aware 
that Somers would fight the whole crowd rather 
than take a glass of liquor of any kind. 

Somers was bewildered by the scene before him, 
but he readily understood that his friend was com- 
promising with unfavorable circumstances, and he 
did what he could to help the illusion, though he 
did not know what De Banyan had said or done 
to create such remarkably good-fellowship between 
himself and such wretched outlaws. He sat down 
at the table and ate heartily of the bacon and bread, 
which were very acceptable, for our travelers had 
eaten nothing since breakfast. 

“Here’s to the health of Jeff Davis!” said the 
man at the opposite end of the table, who appeared 
to be the commander of the squad. “All up I” 

The guerillas rose to their feet, De Banyan with 
them, with a glass in his hand. 

“All up!” exclaimed the major, heartily. 

Somers rose then, with a glass of water in his 
hand, which a black woman in attendance had 
brought him; but he had no more intention of 
drinking the health of Jeff Davis, even in a glass 
of water, than he had of supporting the arch rebel 
with his sword. 

“President Davis,” said the leader. 

“President — Lincoln,” added the major, drop- 
ping his voice as he uttered the last word. 


196 


FIGHTING JOE 


“President — Lincoln,” repeated Somers, in the 
same manner. 

“One more!” shouted the commander of the 
squad, as he filled his glass again, and his example 
was followed by all present. “Here’s confusion to 
the Yankees 1” 

“Confusion to the Yankees!” repeated the other 
guerillas. 

“Confusion to the — rebels!” said De Banyan 
and Somers, using the same tactics as before. 

The guerillas, as if satisfied that they had firmly 
established Jeff Davis on his throne and hurled con- 
fusion among the Yankees, rose from the table. 

Their leader came over and took De Banyan by 
the hand. 

“What did you say your name was?” asked he. 

“De Banyan,” replied the other. 

“And you are going to join Wheeler’s cavalry?” 

“That’s what’s the matter,” answered the major, 
who readily adapted himself to the manners of his 
new friends. 

“Can’t we make it worth your while to stay with 
us?” continued the chief. “You are a good fellow, 
and look as though you could fight.” 

“Wheeler expects me, and I don’t wish to disap- 
point him. I’m going on his staff.” 

“There is something up to-night,” said the chief, 
confidentially, “and you may make your fortune in 
a few days.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


197 


“I don’t object to that.” 

“I’ll tell you about it, if you like.” 

“I don’t object.” 

“I don’t know as I will, either; it would hardly 
be prudent for me to do so. You may be one of 
those shrewd Yankees, after all. You know you 
wear Yankee colors,” added the chief, doubtfully. 

“I tell you I was born in Winchester, not twenty 
miles from here, and I am no more a Yankee than 
you are,” protested the major. 

“I’ll trust you,” said the leader. “You can’t 
spoil the job, if you don’t help us. You are a 
tonguey fellow, and I want you more than I want 
the girl that promised to marry me when the war is 
over. I’ve got the smartest set of men that ever 
sat in a saddle. They are all Texans.” 

“I see they are,” added De Banyan, glancing at 
the cutthroats who formed the squad. 

“I’ve got the keenest scout on the lookout for 
me that you can find this side of the Rocky Moun- 
tains. He’s a young fellow of eighteen, and goes 
inside the Yankee lines like a native. We go in 
for making money out of this thing, while we do 
a good job for the South.” 

“Of course,” said De Banyan, carelessly. 

“There’s a paymaster coming down from Nash- 
ville on one of these trains with a heap of green- 
backs to pay off the Yankee army. We want those 
greenbacks, and we shall have them, too.” 


198 


FIGHTING JOE 


“If you can get them,” suggested De Banyan. 

“We can get them, and if you want your share 
of them you have only to join our company. If 
you will. I’ll tell you the rest.” 

“I’m yours,” replied the major. 

“And you ?” asked the leader, turning to Somers, 
who had been listening eagerly to the conversation. 

“I go with De Banyan.” 

“Good! Tippy — that’s my scout — ^will come 
down in the train with the paymaster. The cars 
will stop at the broken bridge and Tippy will come 
over here with his information, and all I have to 
do then will be to pounce on the escort and pocket 
the greenbacks. What do you think of it ?” 

“It’s a tip-top idea, and I’m with you.” 

“I expect Tippy will be here to-morrow.” 

“All right; I can help you about this business.” 

“You can. Now, if you could step in and tell 
the paymaster you are a Yankee, and with that 
smooth tongue of yours prevent him from taking 
too much cavalry with him, you would earn your 
share of the money.” 

“I will do it.” 

“You can make a man believe anything.’’ 

“Very well; I will go at once.” 

“Oh, no; there is no need of going till Tippy 
comes with the news.” 

“I think I had better meet the train on the way.” 

“Not at all,” said the guerilla, shaking his head. 


FIGHTING JOE 


199 


“We never let our recruits go out till we know 
them better than I know you.” 

“You won’t trust me?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Very well,” said De Banyan, easily. “My horse 
and servant are out in the storm now. I will take 
care of them.” 

“We will go with you,” and half a dozen of the 
villains followed De Banyan and Somers to the 
place where they had left the servants and the 
horsea. 


CHAPTER XIX 


TIPPY, THE SCOUT 

On the way out of the house, De Banyan whis- 
pered a few words in the ear of Somers, while they 
were in the darkness of the entry. There was very 
great danger that things might get a little mixed; 
that Alick and the other servant might tell wrong 
stories about their respective masters. 

“Tell Alick to say we are rebels,” was the sub- 
stance of the communication. 

When they reached the spot where the horses 
had been left, Somers told his man what to say. It 
was fortunate that he did so promptly, for the 
guerilla leader, apparently suspecting something, 
suddenly became very officious and kept close to the 
recruits. The horses were taken to the stable, 
where they were placed with the others, after 
which the party returned to the house, followed by 
the servants. 

“What’s your master’s name?” demanded Cap- 
tain Lynchman, the leader of the guerillas, of 
Alick. 


200 


FIGHTING JOE 201 

“Captain Somers, sar,” replied the faithful 
fellow. 

“What is he captain of ?’^ 

“Dunno, sar?” 

- “Where did you come from ?” 

“Up above, sar.” 

“Is your master a Union man?” 

“I reckon he isn’t, sar. He’s a right smart reb’l, 
sar.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Dunno, sar.” 

“How long have you been in his service?” 

“Much as a monf, sar?” 

The captain asked many other questions, but 
Alick gave prudent answers; he did not know 
much, and what he did know, he did not know cer- 
tainly. De Banyan’s man, taking his cue from his 
fellow-servant, answered in similar terms, and 
nothing was made out of either of them. 

During the evening Somers learned, from va- 
rious members of the band, that the guerillas were 
only a portion of an organized body, duly recog- 
nized by the Confederate government, engaged in 
partisan warfare. The talent and address of Major 
de Banyan had attracted the attention of the chief, 
who affected strategy rather than a bold and dash- 
ing policy. Captain Lynchman’s perception was 
creditable to him, and if the major would have 


FIGHTING JOE 


^02 

engaged in the foul business he would undoubtedly 
have been an invaluable assistant. 

Our travelers were regarded as members of the 
band, but really they were prisoners. They found 
no opportunity to interchange a word of counsel 
or to take a single step for their future safety. 
Both of them were anxious to reach the headquar- 
ters of “Fighting Joe,” but the delay was not vol- 
untary on their part. De Banyan had chosen be- 
tween capture and compromise. He had presented, 
as he always did, a bold front, but disarmed sus- 
picion in the beginning by his skill and address — 
had actually won the hearts of his new companions. 

Captain Lynchman affected strategy, and, while 
he carefully watched the recruits, he treated them 
with the utmost consideration. His future move- 
ments depended upon the information to be 
brought by Tippy, the scout. After the horses had 
been cared for the guerillas retired for the night, 
some of them taking the beds, sofas and divans, 
others stretching themselves on the floors; but 
there was no part of the house which was not occu- 
pied by them, and there was no opportunity for 
our travelers to “cut” their unpleasant associates 
during the night, as they had hoped and expected 
to do. 

Early in the morning Tippy, the scout, arrived. 
All the guerillas were at the stables, attending to 
the horses, when his coming was announced. The 


FIGHTING JOE 


20S 

men were ordered to be ready to mount at an in- 
stant’s notice, while Captain Lynchman hastened 
to the house to receive the intelligence brought by 
the scout, who was eating his breakfast in the 
kitchen. 

“De Banyan, I shall want you,” said the leader; 
“your work will commence about this time. It 
will take the greenback train an hour or two to get 
ready for a start. Come with me.” 

“I am ready for anything,” replied the major; 
and, followed by Somers, he repaired to the house 
with the guerilla chief. 

They entered by the front door, and, taking pos- 
session of the drawing-room, the captain ordered 
Skinley, who seemed to be the commissary-general 
of the gang, to send the scout into the room. 

“Skinley, you’ll be deaf now,” said Captain 
Lynchman. 

“I reckon they ain’t none so deaf as them that 
won’t hear,” responded the Texan. 

“Then you won’t hear what Tippy has to say. 
Bring him in.” 

“Tippy’s half starved, cap’n; they don’t feed ’em 
much up among the Yanks.” 

“Let him eat, but tell him to be quick.” 

Skinley left the room, and then, for the first 
time, the captain noticed the presence of Somers 
and told him to leave the room. 


204 


FIGHTING JOE 


“He’s my friend, Captain Lynchman; I have no 
secrets from him,” interposed the major, with dig- 
nity. “If you can’t trust him you can’t trust me, 
and we will move on to the headquarters of 
Wheeler’s cavalry.” 

“Just as you please, major,” replied Lynchman; 
“but it is hardly regular.” 

“Nothing is very regular about these partisans. 
It is just as regular for him as for me. He is my 
right-hand man, and I can’t do anything without 
him. I don’t ask your confidence, and I don’t want 
it. I am just as willing to go about my business as 
I am to stay with you.” 

“/ am not willing, after telling you my plans.” 

“What did you tell them to me for, then?” 

“Because I wanted you, and I did not expect to 
get you without offering big inducements. We shall 
divide three or four millions in greenbacks to-day, 
if we manage well. I believe in strategy in a case 
like this.” 

“So do I, and that is the very reason why I want 
Somers to know all about the matter.” 

“While they were talking about it. Tippy, the 
scout, entered the room. He was a young man, 
with a bright eye and a manly form, and looked as 
though he was capable of doing all that had been 
claimed for him. He had eaten his morning meal 
very hastily; indeed, he had not finished it when 
he presented himself in the drawing-room, for his 


FIGHTING JOE 


205 


mouth was even now crammed full of corn cake, 
which he was trying to dispose of so that he could 
speak. 

Tippy looked at Captain Lynchman first, crunch- 
ing the food in his mouth in the most vigorous 
manner. From the leader, he glanced at Somers, 
who stood next to him. De Banyan had walked 
away to a window on the other side of the room, 
and as he turned to come back the scout looked at 
him. Instantly his jaws ceased their movements, 
and he started back, apparently filled with aston- 
ishment. Somers looked at the major, who stood 
calmJy at his side, but it was evident that he was 
not wholly unmoved by the appearance of Tippy. 

“Well, what does all this mean?” demanded 
Captain Lynchman. 

Somers again glanced at the major, and saw him 
give the scout a very slight but energetic shake of 
the head, accompanied by a look which seemed to 
penetrate to the very soul of Tippy. 

“Why don’t you speak?” demanded Lynchman, 
Impatiently. 

Tippy improved this opportunity, still gazing In- 
tently on Major de Banyan, to swallow the food 
In his mouth. He finished this operation, and 
Lynchman waited for him to explain his singular 
conduct. 

“Have you lost your tongue?” cried he, jumping 
out of his chair. 


206 


FIGHTING JOE 


“I cannot speak,” replied Tippy, exhibiting a 
great deal of emotion in his tones. 

“Cannot speak ! Do you know this man ?” 

“I do.” 

“Who is he?” 

“Let him answer for himself. It is not for me 
to speak in his presence.” 

“What does all this mean?” said the guerilla 
leader, bewildered by the new aspect of affairs. 
“Who is this man, that you cannot speak in his 
presence ?” he added, turning to the major. 

“He is a bigger man than you or me,” answered 
the scout, mysteriously. 

“That may be, but I command here. Is he a 
traitor, or a Yankee?” 

“No,” almost shouted the scout. “He belonged 
to Winchester once. He is a Tennesseean.” 

“Good !” exclaimed the captain, apparently much 
pleased with this confirmation of what the major 
had said of himself. 

“Give your information, Tippy,” added De 
Banyan, with an awful exhibition of dignity, as 
though he were the “big man” whom the scout had 
represented him to be. 

“Not yet,” said Lynchman. “I want to under- 
stand this matter a little better.” 

“We have been in Nashville together. We have 
worked together for years,” interposed De Banyan. 

“Oh, that’s the idea — is it?” said the leader of 


FIGHTING JOE 


^07 


the guerillas. “Then you are a scout yourself, 
Major de Banyan?” 

“I have done a great deal of hard work in Vir- 
ginia and in Tennessee. I have stood by the flag 
almost from the beginning,” returned the major. 

“Is this so. Tippy?” 

“It is. Captain Lynchman. Whatever he says is 
right.” 

“Major, I am satisfied now,” said the chief, ex- 
tending his hand to De Banyan. “I wanted to re- 
pose implicit confidence in you before, but prudence 
forbade.” 

“We are losing time,” said De Banyan. 

“Now tell your story. Tippy,” added Lynch- 
man. 

Somers was confounded by the events which had 
just transpired before him. He did not know what 
to make of them. His friend had a wonderful 
power over the scout, which he could not explain ; 
but, whatever occurred, he knew that De Banyan 
was a true man; that the recognition and devotion 
of the rebel scout to him were no evidences of in- 
fidelity. He could not understand, but he could 
trust the major. 

“Shall I go on, sir?” said the scout, appealing 
to the major. 

“Certainly; proceed,” replied De Banyan. 

Tippy’s story was short and to the point. The 
paymaster with the greenbacks had arrived, and 


208 


FIGHTING JOE 


there was present a force of about a hundred cav- 
alry to convoy him to his place of destination. 

“A hundred!” exclaimed the captain, vexed at 
this information. “I shall want the rest of my 
men.” 

“You bet!” exclaimed a deep voice near the 
door, in low, emphatic tones, as though they had 
been used in soliloquy. 

“Skinley !” cried the captain, angrily. 

There was no reply, and Lynchman repeated the 
call half a dozen times, as loud as he could yell. 

“D’ye call me, cap’n?” said the Texan, coming 
to the door, which was now discovered to be par- 
tially open. 

“I did; you have been listening at the door.” 

“Fotch ’em as soon as I kin, cap’n,” said the 
burly fellow, innocently. 

“None of that with me,” added Lynchman, an- 
grily. 

“Bet yer life they ain’t, cap’n.” 

“Silence, you villain!” thundered the captain, 
taking a pistol from his belt. 

“Take keer, cap’n !” 

“Can’t you hear, Skinley? If you can’t. I’ll open 
your ears.” 

“You told me to be deef, cap’n.” 

“I did; and you have been listening to all that 
has been said in this room.” 


FIGHTING JOE 209 

“I was afeered you mought forget some on’t and 
mought want me to remound you of it/’ 

“Come here.” 

“Here’m I, cap’n.” 

“Do you know where the rest of our men are?” 

“If I don’t nobody don’t.” 

“Ride over there as fast as you can and tell 
Sweetzer to meet me at Tantallon cross-roads at 
once with all his force. Do you understand?” 

“I kin hear now, cap’n.” 

“It will take you an hour to go, and another 
hour for Sweetzer to reach the cross-roads.” 

“How many men have you?” demanded Dc 
Banyan, in business-like tones. 

“About a hundred,” replied the captain. “We 
can make a sure thing of it, for we shall outnumber 
the Yankees, and choose our own ground, besides.” 

“Where are they now?” 

“At Raybold’s, on the Salem road. I have driven 
them hard lately, and I gave them a few days to 
rest.” 

“I know the place. It is near the mountains.” 

“Just so. I believe in strategy, and I thought I 
should do better with twenty men than I should 
with over a hundred; but I calculated to take the 
greenbacks on the train.” 

“Your plans are good; but do you send only one 
man on such a message? Suppose he should fall 
from his horse, or be shot by a Yankee?” 


210 


FIGHTING JOE 


“I can’t spare but one, for I may have to do the 
job before the rest of my force arrives.” 

“Send Somers,” suggested the major. 

“What good would that do? He couldn’t find 
my men?” 

“Do you know where Raybold’s is, Somers?” 
asked the major. 

“Certainly I do — just by the mountains on the 
Salem road,” replied Somers, who had given good 
attention to the conversation. 

“Right; you will do,” added the captain. 

And Somers went with Skinley. 


CHAPTER XX 


SKINLEY, THE TEXAN 

Somers readily understood that he was sent off 
by the major for a purpose, but De Banyan had no 
opportunity to explain his intention before he went. 
It was plain that a very important part in the plan 
for frustrating the object of the guerillas had been 
entrusted to him, but he had not a single word of 
instructions. 

As Somers mounted his horse he saw De Banyan 
and Tippy leave the estate and ride off in the direc- 
tion of the railroad, and he doubted not that he 
had been sent to delay the paymaster and assure 
him that the road to the army was perfectly safe. 
After the full and unequivocal indorsement of 
Tippy, the major was fully established in the con- 
fidence of the guerilla, who unreservedly communi- 
cated to him his hopes and his expectations. 

Somers joined Skinley, who was to be his com- 
panion in this morning ride. The “Texican,” as 
he delighted to call himself, was a stout fellow, 
good-humored, and immensely fond of a joke. 

211 




FIGHTING JOE 


Lynchman appeared to repose great confidence in 
him, otherwise he would not have sent him upon 
his present duty. The ruffian was armed from 
head to foot with rifle, pistols and a knife, and 
looked like a moving arsenal. He was a formida- 
ble person for a young man like Somers to deal 
with, and yet it was fully evident that he had been 
sent by the major to prevent the “Texican’’ from 
delivering his message. 

The young officer did not like the duty, for there 
was apparently only one way in which he could dis- 
charge it, and that was by deliberately shooting his 
ugly companion. All the carnage and death he had 
seen in the course of the war — and he had seen a 
great deal of them — had not impaired his respect 
for human life. He could not wantonly sacrifice 
even an enemy. He was with this man as his friend 
— in disguise, it was true; but the Texan trusted 
him — did not regard him as a foe. To turn upon 
him in the moment when he suspected no danger 
looked cowardly, and his chivalrous soul revolted 
at the act. Ruffian, rebel, traitor as this man was, 
he was one of God’s creatures, made in His own 
image, and nothing but the severest necessity could 
justify the killing of him. 

Thus he reasoned on the one hand; but on the 
other, this man was going to procure a force to 
shoot down the loyal soldiers of the Union ; to rob 
the government of the money intended for the 


FIGHTING JOE 


213 


troops, upon whose earnings wives and children 
depended for their daily bread. But this was war 
— what the custom of civilized nations justified, 
while killing a man in cold blood was an act of 
treachery from which he could not but shrink. War 
had not debased him, for he still read his Bible 
and still leaned for strength and guidance upon 
that arm which can lead and support all who con- 
fide in its almighty power. 

Somers felt that he could not do this deed. It 
was too revolting, too barbarous; and yet it must 
be done, or others would bleed and die for his want 
of nerve. He could not settle the troublesome 
question, and he determined to defer the deed as 
long as he could without imperiling the safety of 
the paymaster and his escort. 

“Well, youngster, you mought be sent out to 
keep me warm, I s’pose,” said Skinley, as Somers 
rode up to his side, after he had carefully consid- 
ered the mission upon which he had obviously been 
sent. 

“Yes, if you are cold,” replied Somers. 

“I am cold, Somers. Maybe yer hain’t got a 
bottle of whiskey in yer pocket — hain’t yer?” 

“I have not; I never use it.” 

“So I heered the major say; but hain’t yer got 
nothin’ stowed away about yer — any brandy, or 
sich like?” 

“I have not.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


gl4j 

“Well, Somers, I tell yer what it is, Somers, it 
was a great mistake cornin’ off without no whiskey, 
Somers.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Don’t yer, Somers?” 

“I can get along very well without it.” 

“Maybe you can, Somers, but I can’t. I feed 
on whiskey, Somers, and I could no more go to 
Raybold’s without sunthin’ to drink than I could 
go afoot on hossback, or go hossback afoot; ’n’ I 
take it, Somers, that can’t be did.” 

“But you will have to go without it, if you have 
none.” 

“No, I won’t — ^you bet I” exclaimed Skinley. 
“Thar’s a Union house over here a good piece. 
They alius has whiskey and bacon when we poor 
fellows has to thust fur meat and hunger fur liquor. 
The old man, I cal’late, is a fust cousin of some 
gin’ral, or some of them fellows in Richmond, fur 
he’s got some sort o’ paper. I’m gwine to git a 
drink when we git thar — bet your life.” 

“But, if they have a safe-conduct, you can’t com- 
pel them to give you anything. They will show 
you the paper,” replied Somers. 

“Let ’em show it, Somers; I can’t read it,” 
chuckled the Texan. 

“Why not?” 

“Well, Somers, I ain’t up to print, to say nothin’ 
of writin’. If they make any muss about it, I kin 


FIGHTING JOE 


215 


tell ’em it was all a mistake — don’t yer see, Som- 
ers? Maybe I moiight be deef, too, Somers.” 

“Perhaps they will read it to you.” 

“Then I’m deef, sartin.” 

“Very likely they will give you what you want, 
if you ask them civilly. 

“No, they won’t, Somers. They hate us wuss ’n 
pizen, but I hate them wuss ’n they hate me.” 

“What have they done?” 

“They ain’t done nothin’, and that’s what I hate 
^em fur. The Yanks won’t tech ’em, and we can’t 
tech ’em, Somers. It stands to reason, Somers, 
sech folks ought to be hated.” 

Somers decided not to discuss this question, and 
he had dropped a few paces behind his companion 
to avoid his slang, when Skinley exhibited a dispo- 
sition to be sociable and insisted that the road was 
wide enough for them to ride abreast. The young 
officer did not want to quarrel with the ruffian, and 
he complied with his request. 

“Thar’s a pooty gal over to Callicot’s, Somers,” 
added he, with a coarse grin. “P’rhaps you’ll think 
more of that than yer do of the whiskey.” 

“Is she a Union girl?” asked Somers — more be- 
cause he felt compelled to speak than because he 
felt any interest in the new subject. 

“In course she are.” 

“You don’t intend to meddle with her, I hope?” 


216 


FIGHTING JOE 


‘‘What makes yer hope that?” demanded Skin- 
ley, sourly. 

“Are you a soldier, Skinley?” 

“You bet!” 

“A true soldier always respects a woman, 
whether she be friend or foe.” 

“Somers, yer idees is a little too fine cut for me,” 
snarled the Texan. 

“Have you a mother?” 

“Not’s 1 knows on. She gin me the slip when I 
wan’t knee high to a chaw terbaker.” 

“Is she dead?” 

“I cal’late she is.” 

“Have you no sister?” 

“Maybe I hev. See here, Somers, you kin draw 
yer charge on that. Yer mought be a preacher, or 
sich like, but don’t yer draw that string on me.” 

“Very well; I have nothing to say, only that if 
you propose to insult a woman, I am your enemy.” 

“Be you?” 

Skinley drew a pistol from his belt and delib- 
erately cocked and pointed it at Somers, to whom 
the act seemed to reveal his companion in a new 
light. It was naturally to be supposed that a man 
who carried such an armory of weapons on his 
person was a dangerous fellow; but from this mo- 
ment Somers looked upon him as a bully. He had 
given the ruffian no cause for offense for which he 
could resort to desperate measures. 


FIGHTING JOE 


217 


‘Tf you insult a woman, I am,” replied Somers, 
quietly drawing a large navy revolver which he car- 
ried in his belt. 

“Put up your shooter, Somers,” said Skinley, 
with a sickly laugh, as he lowered his pistol. 

“I am not quite ready to put it up,” replied 
Somers, sternly, for he had made up his mind that 
the time to execute the task imposed upon him had 
come. “When a man draws a pistol upon me he 
insults me.” 

“I only did it to see what sort of stuff you 
mought be made of, Somers — that’s all,” answered 
Skinley. 

“I am not satisfied with that explanation. I 
would like to know what sort of stuff you ‘mought’ 
be made of now,” said Somers, imitating the 
speech of his companion. 

“I’m a Texican. I was born in the woods, 
nussed on hickory nuts, and turned out to paster 
in a canebrake. When I kim of age I fed on gun- 
powder, and druv four alligators, four in hand, 
hitched to a sulky. That’s what’s the matter. 
Don’t you know now what sort of stuff I mought 
be made of?” 

“Slang and brag, I should say, were the princi- 
pal ingredients in your composition. You have in- 
sulted me.” 

“I ax yer pardon; put up yer shooter.” 

Somers did so, but very reluctantly. It was only 


21S 


FIGHTING JOE 


postponing his mission; though the discovery that 
his companion was a coward at heart, in spite of 
his words, and in spite of the liberal display of 
arms about him, led him to hope that he might 
dispose of him in some better way than shooting 
him. 

“I ax yer pardon; that’s what a Texican does 
when he finds he mought be in the wrong.” 

“Very well. Now, if we can’t talk without 
quarreling, I will keep a little in the rear.” 

“Jest as you say, Somers.” 

They rode along in silence for a time, till they 
reached a house much superior to most of those 
they had seen on the road, at which Skinley 
halted. 

“I’m sufferin’ for my bitters, Somers,” said the 
Texan, as he reined in his steed. 

“Is this the house of the Union man?” 

“Bet yer life ’tis. I only want a little drop of 
whiskey,” replied Skinley, as he rode up the lane 
by the house, followed by his companion. “I won’t 
stop only a second.” 

The guerilla dismounted, and, throwing the bri- 
dle-rein of his horse over a post, he entered without 
the ceremony of knocking. When he had gone in, 
Somers rode forward till he came to the windows 
of the house, for he was fearful that the conduct 
of the Texan would not be conciliatory, and he 


FIGHTING JOE ^19 

was disposed to defend the Union people within, 
even at the peril of his life. 

Skinley was absent some time — longer than a 
due regard for the urgency of his mission would 
have tolerated; but Somers was in no hurry to 
reach Raybold’s himself, and was not impatient on 
account of the delay. It was evident that the 
wretch had not readily procured his dram, and his 
companion feared that he might resort to violence 
in enforcing his demand. The delay indicated 
trouble within the house, and Somers dismounted. 
Fastening his horse to a gate, he walked towards 
the entrance. He was not one moment too soon, 
for before he could reach the door he heard a 
piercing scream uttered by a female. He rushed 
in with his revolver in his hand. 

“Don’t yell,” said Skinley, as he entered. “I 
only want yer to bring on the whiskey. I’m so 
deef I can’t hear yer if yer do yell.” 

Somers stopped at the door of the room where 
the parties were, for, indignant as he was, he was 
always prudent. He cocked the pistol and took a 
survey of the situation. 

“I tell you there is not a drop of whiskey in the 
house, and has not been for two years,” replied the 
female, who was a young and well-dressed lady, 
and whose personal attractions fully justified the 
Texan’s commendation of them. 


FIGHTING JOE 




“Yer mought tell that to a dead alligator, and 
he’d scretch yer eyes out fur’t,” added the ruffian. 

“I have told you the truth; there is not a drop 
of liquor of any kind in the house.” 

“ ’Tain’t so; all our boys knows you keep whis- 
key by the hogshead. Now fotch on the liquor, my 
darlin’,” and as he spoke he grasped the lady by 
the arm. 

She evidently regarded his touch as pollution, 
and again screamed lustily. 

“See here; don’t be so techy. I ain’t gwine ter 
hurt yer.” 

“Father!” cried the terrified girl, shrinking 
from the wretch. 

Somers would have fired, but he fqared the re- 
port and the death of the ruffian before her face 
would be too great a shock for the lady. She was 
frightened, but she seemed to have perfect control 
of herself. 

“Say, doxy, won’t yer fotch on the whiskey?” 
continued Skinley; and again he attempted to seize 
the arm of the lady, who fled before him. 

“Father 1” screamed she again. 

Somers stepped into the room; at the same in- 
stant an elderly gentleman rushed in by a door on 
the opposite side of the apartment. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE HOUSE OF THE UNION MAN 

The gentleman who entered the room from the 
other side was evidently Mr. Callicot, the father of 
the lady, and the Union man of whom the guerilla 
had spoken. He was unarmed, but there was a 
rifle hanging against the wall, after the manner of 
the South and West. The old gentleman was out 
of breath from hurry and excitement, and was 
hardly in condition to confront the rufflan, who had 
been bold enough in the presence of a timid 
woman. 

“What do you want here?” demanded Mr. Cal- 
licot, in an excited tone. 

“Nothin’, squire, but a drink of whiskey,” re- 
plied the Texan, glancing first at Somers and then 
at the old man. 

“There is not a drop of whiskey in my house, 
and has not been for years,” answered Mr. Callicot. 

“Tm a Texican, squire, and yer can’t cheat me. 
I was born in the woods, and I kin smell whiskey 
nine mile off.” 


221 


222 


FIGHTING JOE 


“I have told you the truth.” 

“No, yer hain’t. Fotch on your whiskey, squire,” 
added Skinley, taking one of his pistols from his 
belt. 

“I have a safe-conduct from the general of this 
department,” said the old man. “Here it is.” 

“I can’t read it, stranger. Don’t want ter read 
it, nuther.” 

“Perhaps you will read it,” said Mr. Callicot, 
walking across the room and handing it to Somers. 

“Don’t yer tech it, Somers,” said the Texan, 
angrily. 

Somers took the paper, glanced at it, and handed 
it back to the owner. 

“Are you satisfied?” asked the old man. 

“I am.” 

“That ain’t handsome, Somers. Bekase you 
don’t drink whiskey, it’s onreasonable that you 
should spile my drink. But I’m gwine to hev my 
liquor. Now, squire, will yer fotch on the whiskey, 
or won’t yer?” 

“I would if I had any.” 

“But yer hev,” said Skinley, raising his pistol, 
and before Somers could realize that he intended 
to fire, he discharged the piece at Mr. Callicot. 

“Oh, my father !” screamed his daughter, rush- 
ing towards him. 

“What do you mean, you villain?” cried Somers, 
elevating his pistol and instantly firing. 


FIGHTING JOE 


22S 

“See here, Somers, that ain’t handsome,” re- 
plied Skinley. “I didn’t tech you.” 

In the smoke that filled the room Somers had 
missed his aim, and the Texan was now entirely 
concealed from him. 

“Leave the house!” shouted Somers. 

“Not till I git my whiskey, if I knows it. I 
hain’t killed the old man ; didn’t mean to kill him, 
only skeer him a little. Maybe you mought be 
willing to fetch on the whiskey now, squire.” 

“I have none, as I told you before,” replied Mr. 
Callicot, who, finding he was not wounded, had, 
under cover of smoke, taken down the rifle from 
the brackets on the wall. “Now you will leave my 
house.” 

“Come, squire, don’t be techy, but fotch on the 
whiskey,” said Skinley, evidently not pleased with 
the new aspect of affairs. 

“Leave my house!” replied the old man, with 
dignity. 

Skinley, finding that it was of no use to argue the 
point, slowly backed out of the door by which he 
had entered. 

“Shoot him, Somers,” said he. 

“You deserve to be shot yourself for this out- 
rage,” added Somers, indignantly. 

“That ain’t handsome, Somers. But we can’t 
stop no longer,” continued the Texan, as he left the 
house and walked towards his horse. 


224 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Begone, or you are a dead man,” said Mr. Cal- 
licot to Somers, who still remained in the room. 

“You mistake me, sir,” returned Somers. “I am 
a friend, and not an enemy.” 

“Begone, or you shall die!” repeated the old 
man, now roused to the highest pitch of indigna- 
tion. “You fired at me as well as the other ruf- 
fian.” 

“I fired at him.” 

At this moment the door by which the owner of 
the house had first entered was thrown wide open, 
and Somers discovered Skinley, who had gone 
round the house and come in by another entrance. 
The wretch instantly raised his rifle and fired. The 
old m.an dropped heavily on the floor, and his 
daughter uttered a scream of agony, as she threw 
herself on his body. 

“That’s the way a Texican settles yer hash I” 
shouted Skinley. 

Somers, who had returned the pistol to his belt, 
drew it again and fired in the direction of the door, 
though the smoke prevented him seeing the 
form of Skinley. The guerilla rushed out of the 
house and disappeared. Somers followed him, de- 
termined not to be balked this time. Unfortu- 
nately, he turned to the left, while the Texan went 
to the right, and when he had passed around the 
house to the lane he discovered the scoundrel al- 


FIGHTING JOE ^25 

ready mounted and spurring his horse away from 
the scene. 

Somers sprang into his saddle and started in 
pursuit. The hour had come to avenge the old 
man and to discharge the duty imposed upon him, 
now made easy by the wretch’s crime. He urged 
forward his good horse to the utmost of his speed 
and gained rapidly upon him. Skinley, who could 
insult a woman and shoot an old man, had a whole- 
some fear of his pursuer, but when he found that 
Somers was gaining upon him he unslung his rifle 
and, while his horse was at full speed, turned and 
fired at his late companion. The bullet did not 
come near Somers, who still urged on his steed. 

Skinley, for some reason of his own, perhaps for 
the purpose of putting into operation some method 
of dodging his pursuer which he had learned in 
fighting Indians, or lassoing cattle, now turned into 
an open field. Whatever might have been the mer- 
its of the scheme under ordinary circumstances, 
it was fatal to him in the present instance, for, 
while the Texan was proceeding in a direction at 
right angles with the road, Somers dashed into the 
field and cut him off by taking the diagonal of the 
square, while Skinley was following the side. Per- 
haps he had not noticed a piece of low ground, par- 
tially covered with water, which compelled him to 
give Somers this advantage. 

“Tain’t handsome, Somers; I didn’t tech you!” 


FIGHTING JOE 


226 

yelled Skinley, when he perceived that he had lost 
the game. 

Somers elevated his revolver and, taking careful 
aim, fired. The wretch threw up his arms, sprang 
upward in his saddle and dropped to the ground. 
While his horse dashed on at increased speed when 
relieved of his heavy burden. 

“My work is done,” said Somers, as he drew in 
his panting steed. 

Turning his horse, he rode slowly back to the 
spot where Skinley had fallen. Dismounting, he 
bent over the body to ascertain the result of his 
shot. The ball had struck the Texan in the side, 
and had evidently passed through his heart, for 
he was entirely dead. The old man was avenged; 
the plot of the guerillas, so far as it depended upon 
the arrival of Sweetzer and his force, was de- 
feated. 

Somers took from the corpse of the guerilla a 
rifle, three pistols and a long knife. There was 
something protruding from the breast-pocket of 
his coat which looked like a bundle of papers, and 
the young officer, ever intent upon procuring infor- 
mation, drew it forth. He was not mistaken ; it was 
a bundle of papers, and among others there was a 
note from Captain Lynchman to Lieutenant Sweet- 
zer; but it was only the order for him to proceed 
forthwith to Tantallon cross-roads. Inasmuch as 
Skinley was not “up to print,” much less to writing, 


FIGHTING JOE 


227 

the remainder of the papers could have no connec- 
tion with the bearer ; but Somers was too much im- 
pressed by the proximity of the dead man, and by 
the necessity of prudence in his present condition, 
to examine them, and he put them in his pocket 
for future inspection. 

Slinging the rifle upon his back, and placing the 
other weapons in his belt, he mounted his horse. 
As he was about to depart, the animal which had 
been ridden by Skinley came walking leisurely up 
the field, as if in search of his lost burden. When 
he saw Somers he went up to him and suffered him- 
self to be captured. He was a docile creature and 
had been well trained by his late master. Leading 
the horse, he returned to the house of Mr. Callicot, 
to ascertain the fate of that gentleman and report 
the result of the pursuit. 

He found the house in commotion. The few 
servants which the Union man had been able to 
retain were bustling about the house, but, as is apt 
to be the case in a panic, doing absolutely nothing. 
Somers gave the horses into the keeping of an old 
negro man and, having deposited the guerilla’s 
weapons in the back room, entered the house. He 
found, by the direction which the servants took, 
where the dead or wounded man lay, for he had 
not waited to learn his fate before he went in pur- 
suit of the wretch who had done the deed. 

He entered the apartment, and was glad to find 


228 


FIGHTING JOE 


that his worst fears had not been realized. Mr. 
Callicot was not dead, but he appeared to be se- 
verely wounded. His eyes were open, and he was 
gazing, with a languid look of affection, at his 
daughter, who was bending over the bed. 

“There’s one of them,” he faintly articulated, as 
Somers entered the room. 

“I am not one of them, Mr. Callicot; on the 
contrary, I am an officer of the Union army, on the 
staff of the major-general commanding the eleventh 
and twelfth corps.” 

“Impossible !” groaned the sufferer. 

“More than this, I have shot the villain who 
fired at you,” continued Somers. 

“He certainly took no part with the other man, 
father,” interposed the daughter; “and I heard 
him order his companion to leave the house.” 

“If you are still in doubt, you will find the vil- 
lain’s horse in your stable and his weapons in your 
back room.” 

“Go and see, Sophia,” said the old man, “for we 
know not whom to trust.” 

Somers conducted the lady to the back room, and 
exhibited the weapons; then to the stable, where 
the negro had taken the horse. 

“If you are not satisfied. Miss Callicot, you may 
send one of your servants to a field on the left of 
the road, about half a mile from here, and he will 
find the body of the guerilla — for such he was.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


229 


“I am satisfied, sir, for I noticed the horse when 
the man rode into the yard,” replied the lady. 
“Why did you not protect us?” 

“I fired at the scoundrel a moment after he dis- 
charged his pistol at your father the first time, but 
the smoke in the room spoiled my aim and I missed 
him. I also fired at him when your father fell, as 
you must have noticed.” 

“I heard two shots, but I did not know who 
fired them.” 

“I supposed he had gone when he left the house, 
but it seems he went round and entered again by 
another door. I did not think the ruffian was base 
enough to kill an old man like your father, or I 
would have shot him in the first place. I did not 
wish to do so in your presence.” 

“I wish you had.” 

“Is your father badly wounded?” 

“I don’t know how bad it is; he was struck in 
the shoulder. I have trembled every day for fear 
of these guerillas, but when they come with an 
officer my father’s paper always saves us from 
harm.” 

“Have you sent for a surgeon?” asked Somers. 

“We have no horse at home, and the surgeon 
lives five miles from us.” 

“Take the dead man’s horse.” 

“Thank you; I will send a man at once,” replied 
Miss Callicot. 


230 


FIGHTING JOE 


A boy was immediately despatched on Skinley’s 
horse for a doctor, and Somers went with the lady 
to the room of her father. The young officer exam- 
ined the wound, and ventured to assure the sufferer 
that it was not a dangerous one. When wounded 
himself, he had seen the surgeons operate, and he 
had some idea of the methods employed. The old 
man was bleeding freely, and by changing his posi- 
tion on the bed, and by pressing a napkin around 
the wound, he checked the flow of blood. 

It was three hours before the surgeon arrived. 
He was a personal friend of the Union man, and 
came with all haste as soon as the boy found him. 
The doctor came, but the messenger did not return, 
and Somers concluded that the horse had been seen 
and recognized by some of the guerillas. The 
young officer was greatly perplexed in regard to 
his future movements, and, though Miss Callicot 
offered and pressed upon him the hospitalities of 
the house, he decided to depart as soon as the doc- 
tor had assured him that the wound was not dan- 
gerous. Leaving at the house the guerilla’s 
weapons, which he advised the lady to conceal, he 
mounted his horse and rode away; but what to do 
or where to go he was at a loss to determine. All 
he wanted now was to find De Banyan and hasten 
to the headquarters of his general. 

The attack upon the paymaster’s escort was to 
be made at Tantallon cross-roads, or in that direc- 


FIGHTING JOE 


2S1 


tion ; but it was not prudent for him to be seen near 
that locality, after what had happened, and he de- 
cided to return to the nearest military post on the 
railroad. After riding a couple of miles, as he 
turned a bend in the road, on the verge of a wood, 
he suddenly came upon Lynchman’s force, which 
had halted there. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE GREENBACK TRAIN 

The guerillas and their horses stood so still in 
the road that Somers had not suspected their pres- 
ence. His first impulse was to wheel his horse and 
flee with all speed from this dangerous ground. 
The fact that the negro boy who had been sent for 
the doctor had not returned was pretty good evi- 
dence that he had been captured by the guerillas, 
and their presence in this place fully confirmed his 
fears. 

To turn and run away would be sure to bring a 
volley from their carbines upon him, and to ad- 
vance was to throw himself into the very jaws of 
the lion ; but, on the whole, he decided that it was 
less perilous to go forward, and he continued on 
his way, as though no shock had come over him. 
The negro who had been captured had probably 
told his story, and it would be a very difficult mat- 
ter to reconcile the conflicting statements that must 
ensue. 


233 


FIGHTING JOE 




“Why are you here, Somers?” demanded Cap- 
tain Lynchman, in an excited tone. 

“Yankee cavalry,” replied Somers, glancing sus- 
piciously behind him. 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know where they are now. Skinley was 
shot by a Yankee and killed.” 

“This is bad business,” said Lynchman. 

“No, it isn’t; it is all the better for us,” said De 
Banyan, stepping forward to the rescue. 

“Perhaps it is, but I don’t see it,” added the cap- 
tain; and truly it must have been rather difficult 
for him to see. 

“You are duller than usual, captain,” continued 
De Banyan, with his easy assurance. “You believe 
in strategy, and look troubled at a difficulty like 
this?” 

“Did you give Skinley’s horse to that nigger?” 
demanded Lynchman. 

“Bah!” exclaimed De Banyan, with hearty dis- 
gust. “What matter whether he did or not? Are 
you going to settle a case of that sort now ? I tell 
you it is all right.” 

“What shall we do?” 

“Do?” sneered the major. “We will capture 
the paymaster at Tantallon cross-roads, as we in- 
tended. We are not going to be thrown off the 
track by a little accident of this kind.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Of course not,” replied the guerilla, catching 
the inspiration of his apparently bolder companion. 

“Leave these Yankees to me,” continued De 
Banyan. “I will have them ten miles from here 
within two hours.” 

“Good!” murmured several of the guerillas. 

“The greenback train has been delayed, and we 
shall have time to bring up Sweetzer yet. I want 
two men to go with me. I will take Tippy and 
Somers.” 

“What do you want of them?” demanded 
Lynchman. 

“Somers shall go to Raybold’s for our fellows 
there, and Tippy shall return to inform you when 
to come forward. If you should be seen, it would 
spoil the whole thing.” 

The guerilla chief consented to this plan, and De 
Banyan, followed by Somers and Tippy, rode off at 
full gallop. The major did not seem to be con- 
scious that he had very cleverly performed the part 
he had assumed in the drama. He looked just as 
determined as though he intended to carry out the 
program assigned to him by Lynchman. 

“What are you going to do, major?” asked 
Somers, when they had ridden about half a mile. 

“The infernal cutthroats!” exclaimed he, sav- 
agely. “Lm going to capture the whole crowd.” 

“But you have no force.” 

“I’ll have one. Tippy !” said he, with energy. 


FIGHTING JOE 


2 ^ 


“Sir,” replied the scout, with the utmost defer- 
ence and respect. 

“Understand my purpose. I am going to the 
stockade where the paymaster and his escort are, 
and where I requested him to remain until he 
heard from me.” 

“Have you seen him ?” asked Somers. 

“I have; he has sent to the next post for more 
men. They must have reached him by this time. 
Now, Somers, if we are smart, we will report to the 
general before night with the paymaster, and these 
guerillas as prisoners. We have got things now 
where we can have it our own way, and it will be 
our fault if we don’t bag the whole crowd.” 

“If the paymaster has a hundred men, we can 
take them at once,” said Somers. 

“I propose to haul in" the whole company — those 
at Raybold’s as well as those with Lynchman. We 
have no time to lose,” continued the major, with 
increased energy. “Somers, you must go to Ray- 
bold’s and deliver the message given you by the 
captain.” 

“I’m willing,” replied Somers, taking from his 
pocket the papers he had removed from the body 
of Skinley. “I have the captain’s written order in 
my hand.” 

“Good ! Kill your horse, if necessary, but don’t 
lose an instant of time. Away with you 

“But I don’t know the road.” 


236 


FIGHTING JOE 


De Banyan instructed him very carefully in re- 
gard to his route. 

“When you have delivered the order, look out 
for yourself,” he added, as Somers put spurs to his 
willing horse and dashed away to execute his im- 
portant mission. 

“Now, Tippy, in one hour go and tell Lynchman 
that the road is open for him,” added De Banyan, 
as he took the hand of the young scout, which he 
pressed with warmth. “Boy, be true to your coun- 
try and your flag from this time henceforth and 
forever I” 

“I will, I will!” exclimed Tippy, with deep 
feeling, as he wiped away the tears which for some 
unexplained reason filled his eyes. 

De Banyan, apparently as deeply moved as the 
young rrian, galloped away at a furious pace. Be- 
yond the wood he turned to the left, crossing the 
creek and the railroad, till he reached another 
road. This point was Tantallon cross-roads, and 
here he turned to the left again, and was now mov- 
ing directly towards the stockade in which he had 
left the paymaster, and where he arrived in an 
hour from the time he started. In fifteen minutes 
more a squadron of cavalry, collected during the 
forenoon from the military posts in the vicinity, 
was moving down towards the cross-roads. 

When the force arrived at its destination, one- 
half of it was posted in a secure place by the rail- 


FIGHTING JOE 


2S7 


road, where it could not be seen by the guerillas as 
they advanced to the rendezvous, and the other 
half in the vicinity of the cross-roads. Quite as 
soon as they were expected, the little troop of 
Lynchman crossed the railroad and moved cau- 
tiously towards the point at which they expected 
to meet the “greenback train.” But no sooner had 
they passed the railroad than the force in their rear 
took the road and cut off their retreat, while that 
in front advanced upon them. For a moment there 
was a clash of arms, but the guerillas were borne 
under and captured by the cavalry without the loss 
of a man, and almost without a scratch on either 
side. 

The prisoners were conducted to a safe place, 
and the cavalry again disposed for the reception of 
the larger force expected from Raybold’s. The 
guerillas were intensely astonished at the sudden 
and unexpected result of the enterprise. Captain 
Lynchman, who believed in strategy, looked ex- 
ceedingly foolish and disconsolate. When the 
prisoners were halted in a secure position he hap- 
pened to see De Banyan. 

“How’s this?” said he, appealing to the ener- 
getic major. 

“How’s what?” asked De Banyan, with admir- 
able simplicity. 

“You have made a blunder somewhere,” added 
Lynchman, sheepishly. 


^38 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Not at all. Everything has come out just as I 
intended it should.” 

“Then you are a traitor,” 

“On the contrary, I am a true Union man. I go 
for the Union first and Tennessee next.” 

“Traitor !” growled the guerilla. 

“See here, my man; you believe in strategy — 
don’t you?” 

“I do.” 

“So do I,” replied De Banyan. “I think you 
have got strategy enough to last you till the end of 
the war.” 

“You deceived me, then,” added Lynchman, 
bitterly. 

“Deceived you !” sneered the major. “Did you 
think I would throw myself into your arms and let 
you butcher me at your own pleasure. I know 
what you guerillas are — gorillas, I had better say. 
Deceived you ! I shouldn’t want a more stupid 
fellow than you are to work upon. You have 
played into my hand all the way through.” 

“What is to be done wdth us?” asked the dis- 
comfited chief, tamely. 

“I don’t know. We shall march you to head- 
quarters ; but, as a man of your Importance ought 
to have a bigger escort than this, we shall add the 
rest of your gang to the train.” 

De Banyan walked away, mounted his horse and 
rode down to the cross-roads again, where the 


FIGHTING JOE 


239 


greater battle was soon to be fought. Tippy, the 
scout, who had disengaged himself from his com- 
panions at the beginning of the affray, was directed 
to keep at a distance from the strife. 

Somers delivered his message to Sweetzer, and 
the guerillas immediately leaped into their saddles. 
The note from Lynchman relieved the bearer from 
all suspicion, and the lieutenant only questioned 
him in regard to the nature of the operations in 
which his force was to engage. Somers answered 
as suited himself; and, finding that no further no- 
tice was taken of him, the officers and men being 
busily occupied in preparing for their excursion, he 
contrived to detach himself from their company. 
Gaining the highway, he rode at a leisurely gait till 
he was out of their sight, when he quickened his 
pace and reached the cross-roads in advance of the 
guerillas. He was warmly welcomed by De Ban- 
yan, but there was no time yet for long stories, 
though both of them had much to say. 

Sweetzer and his men crossed the railroad with- 
out a suspicion that they were plunging into a fatal 
trap till they heard the clatter of horses’ feet be- 
hind. The cavalry in the rear, which was to open 
the battle, dashed upon the guerillas with a round 
of Union cheers. But the rebels were desperate 
fellows. They had been plundering, murdering 
and destroying without mercy, and the fear of a 
righteous retribution upon their heads nerved them 


240 


FIGHTING JOE 


to the most determined action, and they fought 
like demons. 

They were hardly engaged before the cavalry in 
front rushed with headlong speed upon the en- 
trapped foe. It was such an opportunity as the 
policy of the partisans seldom permitted them to 
enjoy, and the Union soldiers, with a hearty relish 
for the work, went into the fight with an enthusi- 
asm which could result only in speedy victory. Then 
ensued a brief but tremendous conflict, in which 
the guerillas were thoroughly and completely 
routed. There was an awful cutting and slashing 
for a few minutes. The rebels were utterly demol- 
ished; they broke and attempted to flee from the 
scene of wrath, but not many of them escaped. 

“The work is done,” said De Banyan, as he 
joined Somers at the close of the conflict. 

“And well done,” said Somers, as he returned 
his sword to his scabbard. “I think the general 
will be willing to excuse our delay in reporting.” 

The wounded were sent back to the military 
post, the prisoners secured, and the “greenback 
train” took up its line of march for the army. 

On the way, De Banyan, Somers and Tippy kept 
together. It was the first time the staff officers had 
found an opportunity to communicate in regard to 
the past. Somers knew but little of what his friend 
had done, but he opened the way for an explana- 
tion by relating his own adventures with Skinley. 


FIGHTING JOE 


241 


‘T supposed you would shoot him the moment 
you got him out of sight of his cutthroat compan- 
ions/’ said the major. 

“I couldn’t shoot him down in cold blood. I 
intended to use a little strategy when the right time 
came,” replied Somers. 

“You are too sentimental by half. If he had 
been a soldier and a decent man, you might have 
hesitated. He was nothing but a cold-blooded 
wretch, a cutthroat; you ought to have shot him 
without winking twice. I would have done it.” 

“I couldn’t do it. But, De Banyan, what have 
you been doing?” 

The major minutely detailed his operations dur- 
ing the morning. He had been to the paymaster, 
proved that he was a Union man, on the staff of a 
general, and exposed the plot of the guerillas. Re- 
turning to them, he had arrived just before the 
capture of the negro boy on the Skinley horse, and 
had contrived to make the fellow say what he 
desired, in part, and to neutralize what tended to 
inculpate Somers. 

“One question, major,” said Somers, when De 
Banyan finished. “Who is Tippy?’* 

“He is my son.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE BATTLE IN THE CLOUDS 

Somers had been greatly mystified by the singu- 
lar conduct of Tippy, the scout, and quite as much 
so by that of De Banyan in connection with the 
young man. He remembered to have heard the 
major say, when they parted, after the eventful 
campaign before Richmond, that he had a son, and 
it now appeared that he had been in the rebel ser- 
vice, while his father was actively engaged on the 
other side. 

Before the war. Tippy had been the confidential 
friend and companion of his father to an extent to 
which parents seldom admit their sons. He was 
an only child, and between them there had been a 
bond of sympathy which nothing but the total 
breaking up of all social relations could effect. The 
father had been compelled to enter the rebel army 
sorely against his will, and at the first opportunity 
had put himself on the right side. In doing so he 
had been separated from his family, hoping, how- 
242 


FIGHTING JOE 


ever, to meet his wife and son again in a few 
months at farthest. He had been grievously dis- 
appointed in this respect, for the sweep of the 
Union army had not been so speedy and decided as 
he had anticipated, and he had been obliged, by 
the force of circumstances, to leave the West and 
go to the East. 

During his absence his wife had died, and the 
son, inheriting the talent of his father, had taken 
service in the rebel ranks, where his ability as a 
scout was soon discovered. When he saw his 
father he had no will of his own; whatever the 
parent was, he was. Like thousands of others who 
fought on the side of the rebellion, he had no prin- 
ciple in the matter, and only went with the crowd. 
He was now happily restored to his devoted par- 
ent, and fully believed that whatever cause his 
father espoused must be the right one. The boy’s 
middle name was Tipton, after a Tennessee poli- 
tician, who happened to be in the ascendant at the 
time of his birth, and from this was derived the 
pet appellation by which he was known among the 
rebels and partisans. 

Somers and Tippy were immediately the best of 
friends, and during the day, as they rode along, 
the young Tennesseean asked a thousand questions 
about the North, about the home and the associa- 
tions of his companion; and it is quite probable 


244 


FIGHTING JOE 


that he profited by the information imparted in 
the answers to the questions. 

Before night, as De Banyan had promised, our 
travelers had the pleasure of reporting to “Fight- 
ing Joe” at Bridgeport and of receiving a hearty 
welcome. They were warmly commended for the 
work they had done among the guerillas, who were 
the pest of the State, the continual annoyance of 
the army’s communications, and a nuisance to 
friend and foe among the families of the region. 
The general conversed freely with De Banyan and 
Somers, and immediately assigned them to duty in 
their respective positions. 

“Somers, my dear fellow, I greet you!” ex- 
claimed Captain Barkwood, when they met. 

“Thank you, captain,” replied Somers, warmly 
grasping the proffered hand of the engineer. 

“You are the only volunteer I have met who was 
fit to be a regular.” 

“Fortunately, I am one,” added Somers, explain- 
ing his position. 

“I congratulate you. I hear that you have been 
fighting guerillas.” 

“A little.” 

“I am sorry you have a taste for those small 
squabbles.” 

“I have not; I only go into them from necessity. 
But our fight with the guerillas was a splendid piece 
of strategy. I will tell you about it.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


M5 


Somers told him, and the engineer was satisfied, 
though he declared that he was too much of a 
coward to have any relish for hand-to-hand en- 
counters. 

“Well, Captain Barkwood, how is the general?” 
asked Somers, when the relative merits of brain 
and muscle had been duly discussed. 

“The general ! He is a diamond among precious 
stones,” replied Barkwood, with enthusiasm. “If 
he gets a chance he will knock the backbone out of 
the rebel army in this quarter. By the way, Som- 
ers, I remember the general when he was in 
Mexico.” 

“Were you there?” 

“I was.” 

“You don’t look old enough.” 

“I’m forty. I remember him at Chapultepec.” 

“I was there,” added De Banyan; “but I was a 
private.” 

“He fought like a tiger there, as he did every- 
where, and went up like a rocket from second lieu- 
tenant to lieutenant-colonel. He is what I call a 
positive man ; he does his own thinking, which, un- 
fortunately for him, perhaps, in some instances, 
does not agree with the thinking of others. He 
was with Pillow, Rains and Ripley, who are all 
rebels now.” 

“But the general left the army.” 

“Yes, he is an active man; he couldn’t stand the 


5^46 


FIGHTING JOE 


piping times of peace that followed the Mexican 
War, and, resigning his commission, went to Cali- 
fornia, where he became a farmer. This didn’t 
agree very well with his constitution, and when a 
speck of war appeared in i86i he hastened to 
Washington, not as an adventurer, mind you, but 
as a man who believed in the American Union. 
Somehow the men in authority seemed to have for- 
gotten about his conduct in Mexico ; and it may be 
that some of his positive opinions were remem- 
bered, and he did not readily procure service. 

“Discouraged and perhaps disgusted with his 
ill success, he made up his mind to return to his 
farm on the Pacific. Before his intended departure 
he paid his respects to President Lincoln, to whom 
he made some comments on the battle of Bull Run, 
which induced the President to make him a briga- 
dier. That was the luckiest thing for the general, 
and the luckiest thing for the country, that ever 
came out of an accident.” 

“That’s so!” exclaimed De Banyan, with em- 
phasis. “I’ve seen him in a great many fights, and 
I say he has no superior in the army.” 

“I’m not very fond of comparisons between 
generals, but I can say I like him better than any 
other,” added Somers. “I wish generals were not 
so sensitive.” 

“Sensitive? My dear Somers, a man can no 


FIGHTING JOE 247 

» 

more be a great general without being sensitive 
than he can be a parson without being pious.” 

“That may be, but I think that some of the 
military operations of the war have failed because 
the commanding general in charge of them was not 
fairly supported, owing to some of these squabbles 
about rank.” 

“That’s true; but there’s a great difference be- 
tween being sensitive and failing to obey orders, in 
spirit as well as to the letter. ‘Fighting Joe’ never 
did and never will allow his sensitiveness to en- 
danger for one moment the success of our arms,” 
said the engineer, warmly. “He would fight under 
a corporal rather than lose the day, any time.” 

“I know that,” answered Somers; “but I can’t 
help feeling that if some generals had been less sen- 
sitive, our general would have been in command of 
a large army to-day.” 

“A positive man speaks what he thinks, and I 
doubt not ‘Fighting Joe’ has often offended his 
superiors by his candid criticisms. This may have 
affected his position, but it cannot rob him of the 
glory of the past. Whatever he does, and wher- 
ever he goes. I’m with him to the end,” added the 
engineer. 

“So am I,” said De Banyan. 

“There will be something done in this depart- 
ment very soon,” continued Barkwood. “The 
heavy storms have rendered the roads almost im- 


248 


FIGHTING JOE 


passable, and the provisions for the army in Chat- 
tanooga have to be conveyed in wagons about fifty 
miles. The first move will be to open the river and 
the railroad between this point and Chattanooga.*^ 

The engineer was correct in his supposition, for 
a few days later General Hazen’s brigade de- 
scended the Tennessee in pontoon boats, intended 
for the erection of a bridge over the river at 
Brown’s Ferry, running the rebel batteries in the 
night, and reaching their destination in safety. The 
Confederate force under General Bragg was posted 
on the south side of the river, holding the heights 
known as Raccoon Mountain, Lookout Mountain 
and Missionary Ridge. Batteries had been planted 
on these heights, which swept the river and the 
valleys, and the operation of dislodging the enemy 
from their strongholds was a difficult and dan- 
gerous one. 

A pontoon bridge nine hundred feet in length 
was built on the river at Brown’s Ferry in five 
hours, a force having been first sent over the river 
and a position captured and fortified to protect the 
operation. The eleventh and twelfth corps then 
moved out from Bridgeport and completed the 
communication between that place and the pontoon 
bridge, thus effecting a junction with the army in 
Chattanooga. A steamboat built by a company of 
engineers, and another captured from the enemy, 
conveyed provisions, one above and the other below 


FIGHTING JOE 


249 


the pontoon bridge, to the beleaguered town. This 
vital question being settled, the place was fortified 
so that it could be held by a small force; and the 
main army then commenced the work of relieving 
East Tennessee from the presence of the rebels, 
which was fully accomplished in spite of the active 
movement of the enemy to prevent it. 

Our volume is not a history, and we do not pur- 
pose to narrate in detail the movements of the 
three armies, which had been united under General 
Grant. The rebels were whipped in every direc- 
tion, foiled and defeated in all their plans, and the 
Union army continued on its march to Atlanta. 
“Fighting Joe” bore an important part in these 
operations, and was conspicuous at Lookout Moun- 
tain, Resaca, and before Atlanta. He was skilful 
and brave, energetic and devoted in this campaign, 
as he had been before. He was faithful to his 
duty, until, on the death of General McPherson, 
he was compelled to ask to be relieved. With this 
summary of the events at the seat of war in the 
South, we return to Captain Somers. 

The general’s command, having opened the com- 
munication with Chattanooga, marched up Look- 
out Valley. “Fighting Joe” was there for a pur- 
pose. The rugged steeps of the mountain bristled 
with rebel cannon, and his army was exposed to a 
sharp fire as it moved on its way. The general was 
in the midst of it, and assured the troops that the 


S50 


FIGHTING JOE 


fire could not harm them. His conduct had the 
most inspiring effect upon the men. 

When the head of the column approached the 
vicinity of the railroad bridge, near Wauhatchie, 
the rebel infantry opened upon it, being posted in 
a dense forest, where their number could not be 
determined. A brigade was thrown out to flank 
the position, upon which the enemy precipitately 
fled over the creek, burning the bridge behind them. 
The column moved on, and halted for the night in 
the valley. 

At midnight. General Geary’s division was sav- 
agely attacked, and presently the gloom of the val- 
ley was lighted up by the flame of battle; cannon 
and musketry blazed from the summits of the 
mountain, but the men fought with the most deter- 
mined zeal. The general was in his saddle, and 
his staff were hurled away, like arrows from a bow, 
to strengthen the weak parts of the line. A bri- 
gade was despatched to the assistance of Geary, 
who was hard pressed, but the attack was promptly 
repelled. 

Somers was then sent off with an order to the 
second brigade to storm the heights and carry 
them, and he was directed to accompany the force 
and report progress to the general. ^ The hill was 
very steep and rugged, and in many places the 
rocks presented the appearance of palisades. It 
was covered with wood and underbrush, and it 


FIGHTING JOE 


251 


would not have been an easy thing to climb it with 
a guide in broad daylight ; but the general had sent 
these intrepid fellows to scale its jagged steeps in 
the middle of the night. It was cloudy, and the 
moon shed an uncertain light on the scene. 

To Somers there was a savor of home in the en- 
terprise, for the Thirty-third Massachusetts was 
one of the two regiments which formed the ad- 
vance in this perilous movement; the other was the 
Seventy-third Ohio, both numbering only four hun- 
dred men. On dashed the intrepid soldiers, climb- 
ing up the dangerous steeps as though all of them 
had been mountaineers — on, till they penetrated 
the clouds, while the gloom was lighted up by the 
glare of the sheets of flame from two thousand 
rebel muskets. There in the clouds, at midnight, 
was fought and won this remarkable battle. The 
crests of the hills were carried at the point of the 
bayonet, and the gallant Thirty-third left one-third 
of its number killed and wounded on the ground; 
but the victory was complete, and Captain Somers 
hastened to report the result to the general. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


PEACHTREE CREEK 

During the night all the rebels evacuated Look- 
out Mountain and retreated upon the main army, 
posted at the eastward of them. The storming of 
the heights was part of the great battle of Chatta- 
nooga, directed by General Grant with the most 
consummate skill, and carried out by his subordi- 
nates with a zeal and energy which insured a great 
and decisive victory. Chattanooga was ours ; East 
Tennessee was purged of the rebels who had been 
persecuting the devoted loyalists from the begin- 
ning of the war; and with these events substan- 
tially closed the campaign of 1863. 

Our limited space compels us to pass over the 
time from this period to the July of the next year. 
Somers and De Banyan still held their positions on 
the staff of the general, spending the winter in the 
vicinity of Chattanooga. There were a great many 
letters passed between the young captain and his 
friends, and all of them from him were not directed 
252 


FIGHTING JOE 


253 


to Pinchbrook. Between himself and Lilian a most 
excellent understanding still subsisted. 

In the reorganization of the army, which fol- 
lowed the well-deserved promotion of Grant to the 
rank of lieutenant-general, “Fighting Joe” was 
placed in command of the twentieth corps, and in 
Sherman’s bloody and decisive advance to Atlanta 
he was one of the central figures in the picture. He 
was the idol of his corps, as he had been in the 
Army of the Potomac. His men loved and trusted 
him, and he never disappointed them. He was 
always in the thickest of the danger, to support 
and to cheer them. 

Everything went wrong with the rebels. John- 
ston, beaten and flanked time and again, fell back, 
until Atlanta, the objective point of Sherman, was 
reached, where he was superseded by Hood, who 
was eminently a fighting man, and was expected to 
retrieve the failing fortunes of the Confederacy. 
On the 20th of July was fought the battle of 
Peachtree Creek, which was a desperate attempt 
on the part of the newly appointed rebel com- 
mander to redeem the disasters of the past. The 
attack was made against a weak place in the line, 
where there was a large gap between the divisions 
of Geary and Williams. 

Into this gap Hood hurled his compact column, 
who, inspired with a hope that their new leader 
would turn the tide of battle, setting so strongly 


FIGHTING JOE 


^54i 

against the rebels, fought with unwonted despera- 
tion. They poured, in solid masses, through the 
open space, and fell upon the boys of the twentieth 
corps with fiendish valor. For a moment they 
shook, but “Fighting Joe” flashed before them like 
a meteor; his full tones were heard, as buoyant as 
in the hour of victory, and the soldiers gathered 
themselves up under this potent inspiration and 
bravely faced the impetuous foe. From both sides 
of the gap, into which the rebels had wedged them- 
selves, deadly volleys of musketry were poured in 
upon them. They were mowed down like ripe 
grain before the scythe. They bit the dust in hun- 
dreds, but the survivors maintained the conflict. 

Still the commander of the twentieth corps 
dashed along the line, and everywhere restored the 
breaking column. His voice was a charm on that 
day, and more than any other of the war in which 
he had been engaged this was his battle ; for, with 
his voice, his eye and his commanding presence, he 
banished panic and wrested victory from the arms 
of defeat. The assault was triumphantly repelled, 
and doubtless the rebels believed that the Fabian 
policy of Johnston was preferable to the bloody 
and bootless desperation of Hood. 

The battle was won, and many and earnest were 
the congratulations exchanged among officers and 
soldiers after the bloody affair. De Banyan and 
Somers had been particularly active, not only in 


FIGHTING JOE 


S55 


bearing orders, but in rallying the troops, and the 
general personally thanked them for their devo- 
tion; at the same time the aide-de-camp was di- 
rected to convey information of the result to a 
general whose position might be affected by it. 

Somers rode off, but had gone only a short dis- 
tance before his friend dashed up to his side and 
pointed out to him a piece of woods on his route, 
where a squad of the enemy’s cavalry had been 
seen, and entreated him to be exceedingly cautious. 

“I’m always cautious, major,” laughed Somers. 

“I know you are, my boy; but you might not 
have known there was any danger in that quarter.” 

“I will avoid the woods, if I can.” 

“You can by going over that low place at the 
right of the creek,” added De Banyan. “I have a 
message to deliver in that direction myself.” 

They rode on, and parted a short distance from 
the creek. Somers proceeded to his destination, 
and, having accomplished his mission, started on 
the return. When he reached the point nearest to 
the creek, his attention was attracted by a riderless 
horse feeding on the shrubs that covered the 
ground. A nearer approach to the animal assured 
him it was De Banyan’s horse, and his blood froze 
with fear as he considered the meaning of this cir- 
cumstance. His friend had evidently been shot 
and had fallen from his horse ; but perhaps he was 


256 FIGHTING JOE 

not dead, and Somers proceeded to search for the 
major. 

As he rode forward, almost overcome by the 
suddenness of the shock which had fallen upon him, 
the sharp crack of a rifle roused him from his med- 
itation, and a bullet whistled uncomfortably near 
his head. He drew his revolver, and discovered 
half a dozen rebels in front of him. Wheeling his 
horse on the instant, he attempted to escape in the 
opposite direction. This act drew upon him the 
fire of the party, and, though he was not hit, his 
horse dropped upon the ground, shot through the 
head. As the faithful animal fell, the leg of the 
rider became entangled under his body, and he was 
held fast. 

“How are you, Blueback?” said one of the 
rebels, as they rushed forward and seized him, 
disarming him before they released him from his 
uncomfortable position. 

“How are you, Grayback?” replied Somers, 
calling his philosophy to his aid in this trying mo- 
ment. 

“Is yer health good, Yank?” 

“First rate, I thank you, Reb,” answered Som- 
ers, as he disengaged his foot from the stirrup be- 
neath the horse. “How’s yours?” 

“I cal’late you are better ter keep than yer are 
to kill.” 

“That’s a sensible idea on your part.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


257 


“Maybe it is. What yer got in your pockets, 
Yank?” 

“Not much; the paymaster hasn’t been round 
lately.” 

“Let’s see.” 

“You rebs don’t take greenbacks — do you?” 
asked Somers, as he pulled out his pocketbook. 

“I bet we do — take anything we can get.” 

“Well, you won’t get much out of me. There’s 
my pocketbook; it’s rather flat — an elephant 
stepped on it the other day.” 

There was about ten dollars in legal tender cur- 
rency and fractional bills in the pocketbook, which 
the rebels thankfully accepted. 

“What else yer got?” demanded the spokesman 
cf the squad. 

“What else do you want? When I meet a friend 
in distress I like to do the handsome thing by 
him.” 

“I reckon we’re in distress, and we’ll take any- 
thing yer got to give. Got the time of day about 
yer?”- 

Somers gave up his silver watch. 

“That’s everything I have about me of any 
value,” he added, hoping these sacrifices would 
satisfy the rapacity of his captors. 

“Dunno, Yank; let’s see,” added the rebel, with 
a grin. “Turn out yer pockets.” 

Somers took from the breast-pocket of his coat 


258 


FIGHTING JOE 


the Testament which his mother had given him, 
and which had been his constant companion in all 
campaigns. It contained several pictures of the 
loved ones at home, including, of course, one of 
Lilian Ashford. 

“You don’t want this?” said he, as he pulled the 
Testament, wrapped up in oiled silk, from his 
pocket and unrolled it before them. 

“I cal’late you Yanks don’t hev no use for this 
book,” replied the spokesman as he took the cher- 
ished gift. 

“Won’t you leave me that?” asked Somers. “My 
mother gave it to me, and it contains the photo- 
graphs of my friends at home.” 

“Not if I knows it, Yank,” replied the man, 
coarsely. “This is a warm day — ain’t it, Yank?” 

“Rather warm.” 

“Maybe that coat’s too hot for yer?” 

“I think I can endure it very well.” 

“I’m feered it will make yer sick if yer wear it 
any longer. Jest take it off, Yank. It was made 
for a better man ’n you be.” 

Somers complied, simply because resistance was 
vain. 

“What number of boots do you wear, Yank?” 
continued the rebel, glancing at his prisoner’s feet. 

“Well, I generally wear two of them,” replied 
Somers, facetiously. 

“I reckon yer won’t wear so mxany as that much 


FIGHTING JOE 259 

longer. Don’t yer think them boots would fit 
me?” 

“I’m afraid they are too small for you,” said 
Somers, disgusted with the conduct of his captors. 

“I reckon they’ll jest fit me.” 

“Come, Turkin, quit now. I’ll be dog-on’d ef 
we don’t git captered ourselves, ef you keep on par- 
latin’ with the carri’n any longer. Fotch him along, 
and we’ll measure the boots bimeby.” 

As this was eminently prudent advice under the 
circumstances, Turkin decided to follow it. One 
of the party took the saddle and bridle from the 
dead animal, while another caught De Banyan’s 
horse. The unfortunate event took place within 
fifty rods of the line of the twentieth corps, and 
near the spot where the recent battle had raged 
fiercest. The ground was directly in front of the 
army, and it was an unparalleled piece of impu- 
dence for the rebels to come so near on such an 
expedition. With the exception of the piece of 
woods, the ground was open, though Somers was 
captured behind a ridge, which hid the marauders 
from the view of the sentinels. 

“Now, Yank, we’ll march,” said Turkin, who, 
though he wore no badge of his rank, appeared to 
be the sergeant or corporal commanding the squad. 
“Be you ready?” 

“Well, no, I’m not ready; but, as you fellows 


260 


FIGHTING JOE 


have such an insinuating way with you, I suppose 
I shall have to go,” replied Somers, glancing in 
the direction of the Union line. 

“You guessed about right that time, Yank. 
’Tain’t no use to look over yender. If yer don’t 
walk right along, jest like a Christian, I’d jest as 
lief shoot yer as not.” 

“Don’t trouble yourself, Reb; I’m with you. 
But I’m not much used to walking without boots, 
of late years, and if you take my boots I may make 
hard work of it.” 

“No, yer won’t; if yer do. I’ll save yer the 
trouble of walking any further.” 

“No trouble at all,” added Somers, who, in spite 
of his apparently easy bearing, was in momentary 
fear of being shot by the ruffians in charge of him. 

“What’s yer name?” demanded Turkin, abrupt- 
ly, as they moved towards the wood, beyond which 
flowed Peachtree Creek. 

“Thomas Somers.” 

“What d’yer b’long ter?” 

“To the army.” 

“See here, Yank; I asked yer a civ’l question; if 
yer don’t give me a civ’l answer, dog scotch me if I 
don’t give yer pineapple soup for supper.” 

By pineapple soup Somers understood him to 
mean a minie ball, deducing this conclusion from 
the resemblance of this messenger of death to the 
fruit mentioned. The rebel seemed suddenly to 


FIGHTING JOE 


261 


have changed his humor, and the captive found 
that it was not safe to give indirect answers ; so he 
told who and what he was in full, without any 
equivocation. 

“Can you tell me what became of the owner of 
that horse?” said Somers, pointing to the animal, 
led by one of the rebels, but he did not venture to 
put the question to Turkin. 

“Maybe I can, but maybe I won’t,” replied the 
man, in surly tones. 

“Was he killed?” 

“If he was, he was; if he wasn’t, he wasn’t.” 

Somers could obtain no information on this sub* 
ject, and he feared the worst. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE MONKEY AND THE CATSPAW 

Notwithstanding his own misfortunes, Som- 
ers could not help thinking of his friend De Ban- 
yan, whom he regarded as an elder brother. They 
had endured much suffering and passed through 
many perils together, and the bond of union be- 
tween them was very strong. The riderless horse 
indicated that he had been killed. The rebels had 
fired upon Somers before they summoned him to 
surrender, and probably a shot at De Banyan had 
been more unfortunate. It was very sad for Som- 
ers to think of his noble companion shot down by 
an unseen foe, but he could hardly cherish a hope 
that he was still alive. It would have been better 
for him to fall in the front of battle, where he had 
so often distinguished himself. 

It was hard to give him up ; yet all the probabili- 
ties were that he had been killed, and that his body 
lay unnoticed and unhonored on the spot where he 
had fallen. Somers was a prisoner himself, and 
had been plundered even of the most necessary 
articles of wearing apparel, and subjected to need- 
262 


FIGHTING JOE 


263 


less insult and brutality. The condition of the 
Union prisoners at Richmond, Andersonville and 
Salisbury was too well known to him to render the 
prospect before him even tolerable. But a despond- 
ing spirit would only aggravate his miseries, and 
he determined to submit to his fate with patient 
resignation. He felt that he was in the keeping of 
the good Father, who doeth all things well, and 
in His appointed time he would be rescued from 
peril and restored to his friends; or, if it was the 
will of Heaven that he should lay down his life in 
grief and misery for the cause he had chosen to 
serve, he would try to be faithful and patient unto 
the bitter end. 

The rebels conducted him through the woods to 
the creek, which they forded, and continued on 
their way till they reached a grove, where it now 
appeared that they had picketed their horses. It 
was also evident to the unfortunate prisoner that 
his captors were not regular cavalrymen, but gue- 
rillas, who hung on the flanks of the army to rob 
the wounded, plunder the dead, capture stragglers 
worth the trouble, and gather up the spoils of bat- 
tle. When this was apparent to Somers, from the 
words and the actions of the wretches, he felt that 
he had reason to be thankful that they had not 
murdered him, as they probably had his friend. 
His life had been spared, but this new revelation of 
the character of his captors suggested a doubt 


264 


FIGHTING JOE 


whether death was not preferable to captivity in 
the hands of such miscreants. At the grove the 
men halted. 

“Now, cap’n, off with them boots!” said Tur- 
kin, in savage tones. 

Somers felt that he had not a moment’s lease of 
life secured to him, and he promptly complied with 
the unreasonable demand of the guerilla. 

“Who’s gwine to hev them boots?” suggested 
one of the gang. 

“The man as they fits,” replied Turkin, who 
proceeded at once to try them on. 

“No, sir! I’ll be dog-on’d if anything of that 
sort shall be did!” protested the other. 

“Well, Gragg, what’s the use of them boots to 
you? You couldn’t put ’em outside yer feet, more’n 
yer could crawl inter the barrel of yer shooter.” 

“Maybe I couldn’t; but them boots is wuth 
more to you than the boss. Draw lots fur ’em.” 

The guerillas debated this question for some 
time, and with so much acrimony that Somers ven- 
tured to hope they would resort to knives and bul- 
lets in the adjustment of the quarrel, and thus 
afford him an opportunity to profit by the discus- 
sion. But it was finally agreed to value the prop- 
erty and make an equal division of it. Turkin 
could not get the boots on, whereat he was greatly 
enraged, and looked at Somers as though he in- 
tended to annihilate him for not having a larger 


FIGHTING JOE 


265 


foot. A young fellow of the party succeeded In 
getting them on, and they were apportioned to 
him. It was pleasant to think that he was dooming 
himself to a great deal of misery by his apparent 
good fortune; for, if he had corns, the boots would 
be agony to him ; if not, they would be tight enough 
to raise a crop of the tormentors in a very brief 
period. If through tribulation we are brought to 
the truth, it is to be hoped that the sufferings of the 
young guerilla brought him to a belief that “hon- 
esty is the best policy,” though this is not the high- 
est rule of morality. 

Each of the marauders was supplied with a 
horse, and apparently to save the trouble of leading 
him, rather than for the comfort of the prisoner, 
Somers was ordered to ride the animal which had 
belonged to De Banyan. The party were loaded 
with plunder, taken from the dead and wounded 
of both armies, as Somers judged from the appear- 
ance of the articles. They moved in the direction 
of the rebel camps, and in a short time they had 
passed beyond the reach of danger from the Union 
army. 

“Gragg, what we gwine to do with this feller?” 
said Turkin, as he pointed to the prisoner. “We 
don’t want him.” 

“Knock him on the head and leave him here,” 
replied the benevolent Gragg. 

“I don’t keer,” added Turkin as he rubbed his 


266 


FIGHTING JOE 


matted hair beneath his hat, as if to stimulate 
a half-developed idea which was struggling for 
existence in his brain. 

Somers did care; it would make considerable 
difference to him. He had patiently submitted to 
the policy of his captors in order to save his life; 
but upon the question of murdering him in cold 
blood he felt that he had something to say. If 
resorting to desperate measures would afford the 
slightest hope of escape, he was ready to accept the 
issue. There were seven of the guerillas, and re- 
sistance was almost hopeless, yet not entirely so, 
for there was a single favorable circumstance to 
aid him. 

As the prisoner rode along between Turkin and 
Gragg, he happened to discover that the holsters 
of De Banyan’s horse still contained the pistols of 
his friend. They were two navy revolvers, which 
the guerillas had neglected to secure. With these 
formidable weapons Somers believed that he could 
make a tolerably good fight, though such a course 
would be madness on his part, unless he was re- 
duced to the most desperate extremity, when death 
was certain if he did not resort to it. 

“We don’t want ter be bothered with this car- 
ri’n,” continued the philanthropic Gragg. 

“I was thinkin’,” said Turkin. 

“Was yer?” demanded Gragg, as the thinker 


FIGHTING JOE 


267 


did not develop the result of his meditations. 
“What was yer thinkin’ ?” 

“Yer know what happened yesterday?” 

Gragg did know, and, as it appeared from their 
conversation, Colonel Grayhame, of the Confed- 
erate cavalry, had threatened to hang the whole of 
the gang for some irregular proceedings among the 
rebel wounded. 

“The kun’Fs down on us, Gragg,” added the 
politic Turkin. 

“I don’t keer.” 

“He’ll spile our prospects. We kin make him 
good-natered by givin’ him a young scrub of a Yan- 
kee officer like this.” 

“I don’t keer.” 

“It won’t cost nothin’. We don’t want the 
young cub, and he’ll think we’re doin’ sunthin’ for 
the cause.” 

“He’ll make yer give up the boots and the coat,” 
suggested the prudent Gragg. 

“You bet he won’t!” replied Turkin, positively. 
“The feller is a staff officer, belongin’ to one of the 
big Yankee gin’rals, and the kun’l will be glad to 
git him.” 

“But the coat and the boots, the watch and the 
money? The kun’l’s foolish about sech things. He 
don’t take ’em from the Yanks.” 

It was finally decided to say that the prisoner 
had been robbed of these articles before they cap- 


268 FIGHTING JOE 

tured him, and to deliver the captive to the colonel, 
as a conciliatory offering. Somers was much re- 
lieved when this decision was reached, for it was 
some satisfaction to be handed over to an officer 
who was a gentleman and had some regard for the 
comfort of his prisoners. 

When the guerillas arrived at the spot where the 
camp of Colonel Grayhame had been on the pre- 
vious day, their plans were entirely changed by 
learning that the cavalry under his command had 
been ordered away to look after the Union force 
sent down to destroy the West Point Railroad; not 
that this information affected their purposes, but 
because it suggested a field for the better prosecu- 
tion of their irregular work. Somers heard them 
discuss the matter, and he found that they believed 
the Union cavalry would burn and plunder public 
and private property, without discrimination, wher- 
ever they went. Their presence would create a 
panic; houses would be abandoned, citizens killed, 
and the spoils would be plentiful. When Turkin 
suggested that the party should follow the colonel 
and gather up the plunder, his companions readily 
assented. 

Somers did not learn what was to be done with 
himself, but he concluded that he was to go Vvith 
them. Though it was now dark, the guerillas im- 
mediately started for the new field of operations, 
and the prisoner was placed between Gragg and 


FIGHTING JOE 


m 


Turkin, as before. These worthies were less com- 
municative during the evening than they had been 
immediately after his capture, and Somers listened 
in vain for any hint in regard to the disposition 
which they intended to make of him. 

They rode till about nine o’clock, when Gragg 
suggested that they were human and ought to have 
some supper. They were approaching the man- 
sion of a planter, and, as they owed allegiance to 
neither side in the great conflict, it mattered but 
little to them who or what the owner was. Their 
sympathies were undoubtedly with the South, but 
their love of plunder was stronger than their sym- 
pathies. 

“Git off the boss, cap’n,” said Turkin, as the 
party halted in the yard of the house. 

Somers obeyed. In the darkness of the evening 
he had contrived to remove one of the revolvers 
from its holster and place it under his vest, for he 
did not know that he should again be permitted to 
mount the horse. He had also transferred from a 
leather bag on the pommel of the saddle, two or 
three at a time, a sufficient number of patent car- 
tridges and caps. He was not without a hope that 
the present halt would afford him an opportunity 
to attempt an escape. 

“Lead your horse to the stable,” added Turkin. 

He put the horse in the stable with the others, 
but he was closely watched all the time. While he 


S70 


FIGHTING JOE 


was thus engaged he saw Gragg and Turkin in 
close conversation, and, though Somers could not 
hear what was said, he was satisfied that they were 
talking about him. 

“Cap’n,” said Turkin, as the prisoner came out 
of the stall. 

“I am here,” replied Somers. 

“Will you be shot afore supper, or arter?” 

“Neither.” 

“That’s jest what I expected you mought say, 
because it stands to reason no man don’t want to 
be shot.” 

“Just my sentiments ; I don’t want to be shot.” 

“Jes’ so; and yer ought to be much obleeged ter 
me fur not shootin’ yer afore.” 

“I am very grateful to you for your considera- 
tion.” 

“Exac’ly; you ain’t no more use to us than a 
knife and fork to a cow.” 

“I don’t do you any harm.” 

“That may be ; but yer don’t do no good. Cap’n, 
will yer be shot afore supper, or arter?” repeated 
Turkin. 

“I have already expressed my views on that 
subject.” 

“Yes or no?” 

“No.” 

“Cap’n, you kin read, I take it?” 

“I can.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


271 


“D’yer ever read the story about the monkey 
that took the cat’s paw to haul the chestnuts out 
the fire with?” 

“I have.” 

“I knew yer hed; yer Yanks is great readers. 
Do yer know what the moril is to that story?” 

‘T think I do.” 

“I knew yer did; yer Yanks is great on morils. 
I’m gwine ter tell yer the moril of that story. Did 
yer say you’d be shot afore supper, or arter?” 

“Neither, if it will accommodate you just as 
well,” replied Somers, greatly perplexed to know 
what the fellow was going to do. 

“Never mind, then; we’ll talk about the moril. 
It ain’t jest the thing fur us to go inter this house 
and make ’em get supper fur us, because we ain’t 
exac’ly regular. We want the supper, and we may 
want sunthin’ more, arter that. We don’t want to 
be seen in the business. Now, we are the monkey, 
and you are the catspaw — don’t you see?” 

“I don’t quite understand you.” 

“You shall go in, order the supper, and do the 
talkin’ for us. When they git supper ready, we’ll 
go in and eat it, without any of the folks seein’ on 
us. Yer’ll be cap’n, and do the talkin’ for us — 
don’t yer see?” 

“I see.” 

“And keep the folks from seein’ us, too — don’t 
yer see ?” 


272 


FIGHTING JOE 


“I see.’’ 

“Now, cap’n, will yer be shot afore supper, or 
arter?” demanded Turkin. 

“Neither,” replied Somers, thereby consenting 
to the plan proposed by the guerilla, 


CHAPTER XXVI 


SUPPER FOR SEVEN 

Whatever the merits of the plan in which 
Somers was compelled to take a part, he did not 
relish the idea of being made a catspaw in the 
hands of such unmitigated villains as the guerillas. 
It involved no sacrifice of principle, and did not 
require him to give “aid and comfort to the en- 
emy”; otherwise he would have taken his chances 
in an encounter with the whole squad. It was one 
portion of the enemy feeding on another portion; 
and if the planter, who was himself a rebel, ob- 
jected to the forced contribution, he had only to 
thank himself for the state of things he had as- 
sisted in bringing about. 

“I am ready,” said Somers, when Turkin had 
fully explained his plan. 

“We’re all half starved, and I cal’late we’re 
ready too.” 

“But do you think I shall look much like an 
officer when I go in without any coat or boots ?” 

“Maybe we mought lend you a coat,” replied 
Turkin, struck with the force of the suggestion. 


£74 


FIGHTING JOE 


By his order, Somers’ coat was restored to him, 
with the remark that he would not want it after 
supper ; which led him to believe that he was to be 
shot when the wretches had no further use for him. 

“An officer usually wears a sword,” added Som- 
ers, “and a pair of boots.” 

“Ger ’long” said Gragg. 

“Do you think an officer would be without boots, 
when all his men are so well shod ? I think I should 
be a catspaw without any claws.” 

“Give him his boots; he won’t want ’em arter 
supper,” replied Turkin; and the young man who 
had these useful articles was compelled to pull 
them off, which he did with a great deal of diffi- 
culty. 

Somers put them on, and began to feel like him- 
self again. 

“See here, cap’n; couldn’t you send the folks 
all out the house for a while, when we are at 
supper?” 

“Perhaps I could; but I fancy they will think I 
am a humbug, when I go in without a sword.” 

“Give him his sword,” said Turkin. “Now, kin 
yer send the folks off — play ’em some Yankee 
trick, don’t yer see?” 

“Perhaps I could; I’ll try.” 

“Ef yer do well, we’ll give yer some supper 
afore ” 

“You git!” said Gragg, expressively. 


FIGHTING JOE 


275 


“I’ll do the best I can,” replied Somers, con- 
firmed in his opinion that the savage meant to kill 
him by the interrupted remark of Turkin and the 
expressive tones of Gragg. 

“Kin yer write, Yank?” asked Turkin. 

“I can.” 

“I knew yer could; yer Yanks is great at writin’. 
Write ’em a note sayin’ somebody wants ter see ’em 
down to the next house.” 

“Capital!” exclaimed Somers. “I should think 
you were a Yankee yourself.” 

“Don’t call me a Yank.” 

“I only meant that you can beat the Yankees at 
playing tricks.” 

“I’m some.” 

All the servants outside the house had been cap- 
tured and kept in the darkness, where they could 
not recognize any of the guerillas. They had al- 
ready been questioned, and enough was known of 
the family to enable Somers to write a note; but 
they had no paper. 

“I can manage it,” said Somers, suddenly, as 
though a splendid suggestion had occurred to him. 
“If I take from my Testament one of those pic- 
tures, and tell them the person represented wishes 
to see them, they will go. If they don’t recognize 
the picture, they will be the more curious to know 
who it is.” 

“Maybe they will,” replied Turkin, doubtfully. 


276 


FIGHTING JOE 


But it appeared from the story of the negroes 
that a son of the gentleman in the next house had 
married a daughter of the planter ; that both were 
at Savannah; and it was finally agreed that the 
spokesman of the party should say the daughter 
had suddenly arrived, was quite ill, and wished all 
the family would come down and see her. 

“But I want one of those pictures to write the 
message on,” added Somers. 

“I’ll give yer one.” 

“And I want to take it from the Testament. It 
will look more natural.” 

The guerillas thought so, too, and by the light 
of the lantern which one of the negroes brought he 
wrote in pencil: These villains mean to rob your 
house after supper; get a force and capture them/* 

“He’s great at writin’ — ain’t he?” said the ad- 
mxiring Turkin. 

“Will you look at it?” asked Somers, inno- 
cently. 

Turkin took the card and looked at it steadily 
by the light of the lantern for a moment, and then 
handed it back to the writer. 

“That will do, you bet,” added Turkin. “We’re 
great on a trick — ain’t we ?” 

“There’s nothing like a well-managed trick,” 
answered Somers, as he placed the card in the Tes- 
tament, which had been given him for the purpose. 


FIGHTING JOE 277 

‘‘You are sharp fellows, and this thing will work to 
a charm.” 

‘T cal’late it will; but ger dong; we want our 
supper. After that wedl show you a trick wuth 
two of that.” 

They walked to the side door of the house, 
which was some distance from the stable, so that 
the arrival of the guerillas had not been noticed by 
the people within. The villains seemed to have a 
very wholesome dread of Colonel Grayhame, for 
they often alluded to him in connection with the 
present operation ; and they had already discovered 
that his main force was not far in advance of them, 
while detachments of his regiment were guarding 
the railroad, not half a mile from the house. 

“See here, Yank; I don’t know as we kin trust 
yer,” said Turkin, who had accompanied him to 
the door, leaving his companions in an arbor with- 
in hail of the mansion. 

“I don’t care whether you do or not,” answered 
Somers. “This isn’t my job ; it is yours.” 

“I’ll go in with yer, with my face kivered up, 
and if yer don’t talk right up, I sha’n’t ask yer 
whether yer’ll be shot afore supper or arter.” 

“I’ll do just what you tell me to do.” 

“Ger ’long, then.” 

Somers knocked at the door, which seemed to 
displease his rude companion, who wished him to 
walk in without any ceremony; but the “catspaw” 


FIGHTING JOE 


ST8 

explained that a certain degree of courtesy would 
help the enterprise, and the guerilla assented, 
though with an ill grace. The door was opened by 
a sleek, black servant. 

“Is Colonel Roman within?” asked Somers, 
using the name of the planter which had been given 
him by Turkin. 

“Yes, sar.” 

“I wish to see him.” 

“Walk in, sar.” 

Somers was conducted to an elegant library, 
where the planter and his family were seated. He 
was closely followed by Turkin, who had tied a 
red silk handkerchief over his face, so that his ugly 
physiognomy was entirely concealed from the in- 
mates of the room. The planter rose from his 
chair and bowed with stately courtesy to his unex- 
pected visitors. 

“I beg your pardon for disturbing you. Colonel 
Roman,” said Somers. 

“Whom have I the honor of addressing?” de- 
manded the planter, rather coldly. 

“Captain Somers, of the army, at your service, 
sir.” 

“You seem to wear the uniform of the Yan- 
kees.” 

“That’s inter yer,” whispered Turkin, who stood 
close by his spokesman. 

“I was so fortunate as to obtain this uniform 


FIGHTING JOE 


279 


from a Yankee officer whom I captured,” replied 
Somers, with promptness. 

“There yer hev him,” added Turkin. 

“That explains it, though some officers prefer to 
go in rags rather than wear the colors of the Yan- 
kees, especially when obtained in that manner.” 

“I have only to say, sir, that the Yankee from 
whom L got them had no further use for his 
clothes,” added Somers, pleased to find that the 
chivalry did not justify the system which prevailed 
of robbing prisoners of their clothing. 

“May I ask your business with me, sir?” 

“I have a small squad of seven men with me. 
We have had no supper, and we wish to trespass 
so far on your hospitality as to obtain one in your 
house.” 

“Eight of you?” asked the planter. “You shall 
be supplied at once.” 

“We are in great haste.” 

“All possible expedition shall be used in prepar- 
ing the meal,” answered the planter, as he ordered 
his servant to give the proper directions to the 
cook and others. “Do you belong to Colonel Gray- 
hame’s force?” 

“Tell him yer do,” whispered Turkin. 

“We do, sir. We stopped at the next house be- 
low, to get some supper, for we are almost starved; 
but they had just received some friends from Sa- 
vannah and could not provide for us.” 


280 


FIGHTING JOE 


“From Savannah?” said the planter, with evi- 
dent surprise; and immediately the ladies present 
suspended their sewing and looked at the young 
officer. 

“Ycr smart, Yank!” muttered Turkin, who ap- 
peared to enjoy the situation amazingly. 

“I think they said from Savannah,” replied Som- 
ers. “They recommended us to come here, assur- 
ing us that you never turned a hungry soldier from 
your door. They gave me a card, requesting me 
to deliver it to you.” 

Somers handed the planter the photograph, on 
the back of which was written the appalling state- 
ment of the character of the guerillas. It was a 
fearful moment to him, for the alarm of the 
planter might betray him to the bloodthirsty villain 
who stood at his side. Though the silk handker- 
chief over the face of Turkin impaired his vision, 
it did not entirely obstruct it. 

Colonel Roman read the words on the card ; he 
was startled by them, and glanced at the bearer of 
the message. Somers contracted his brow, shook 
his head slightly in the direction of Turkin, and as- 
sumed a deprecatory expression, which the planter 
seemed to understand. 

“The persons at the next house wish to sec you 
as soon as possible,” added Somers. 

“We will go at once,” replied Colonel Roman, 
“if you will excuse my absence.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


281 


“Certainly, sir,” answered Somers, now fully 
assured that he was understood. 

“What is it, father?” asked one of the daugh- 
ters, puzzled by the remarks which had been made 
in her presence. 

“Your sister Lucretia has arrived from Savan- 
nah; she is 111, and we will go down and see her 
Immediately,” replied the planter. 

The wife and both of the daughters expressed 
their surprise ; but the colonel directed them to get 
ready as speedily as possible, and they left the room 
for this purpose. 

“I am sorry to leave you, captain,” continued the 
planter, “but I will endeavor to return as soon as 
you have finished your supper. Pray make your- 
selves entirely at home. Why don’t your men 
come into the house? My doors are always open 
to the defenders of my country.” 

“Thank you. Colonel Roman. I will take them 
Into the dining-room at once.” 

“Do so,” said the planter, as he left the room. 

“You’re smart, Yank!” exclaimed Turkin. 

“I have only done what you told me to do. If 
there is any credit about the affair, It belongs to 
you,” replied Somers, in a deprecatory tone. 

“That’s so, Yank; but yer kerried it through 
right smart, and yer shall hev some supper 
afore ” 


282 


FIGHTING JOE 


“You are shot,” the ruffian would have said, if 
not prevented by prudential motives. 

The planter and his family left the house by the 
front door, and it is probable that they used all 
possible haste to escape from the presence of the 
guerillas, whose character they now understood. In 
the meantime, Turkin amused himself by opening 
the various drawers in the planter’s secretary and 
prying into every hole and corner which might be 
supposed to contain any valuables. 

In half an hour supper was announced, and Tur- 
kin went to the dining-room. The servants were 
sent off and ordered not to show themselves again. 
The guerillas then sat down to supper, making 
Somers stand before the door leading into the hall, 
to notify them of the approach of any person. 
They ate and drank, but they did not hear the 
sounds of horses’ hoofs in the yard, just as they 
finished their meal. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE CATSPAW TOO SHARP FOR THE MONKEY 

The side door of the house opened into the 
hall, where Somers stood as sentinel for the hungry 
guerillas, and from which a flight of stairs led to 
the second floor. The prisoner had carefully noted 
all the surroundings, for he had learned from 
“Fighting Joe” that the battle was gained only by 
good strategy, which must depend upon a thor- 
ough knowledge of the ground. 

When the precious plan of his captors was first 
developed, Somers regarded it as the means of his 
deliverance, "though he could not then tell precisely 
in what manner it was to be accomplished. He 
knew that an important bridge on the railroad, not 
far from Colonel Roman’s house, was guarded by 
a squad of cavalry, and he readily perceived that 
this force would be brought up by the planter for 
the protection of his family and the capture of the 
guerillas. These wretches were by no means an 
anomalous class on the flanks of Sherman’s grand 
march to the sea, and Colonel Roman readily un- 
derstood who and what they were. They were 
383 


FIGHTING JOE 


284 ! 

nominally Southern partisans, organized, protected 
and encouraged by the President of the Confeder- 
ate States ; but they were as willing to plunder one 
party in the strife as the other. 

Somers had no special sympathy for the planter, 
though he would have gladly raised his arm in de- 
fense of the female members of his family, even 
against the wretches whom treason and rebellion 
had brought into the field. What he had done was 
for his own benefit, rather than for that of the hos- 
pitable rebel. He had recovered possession of his 
boots and coat, his Testament and photographs, 
when he became the “catspaw’’ of the guerillas, 
and he was now in condition to make a movement 
as soon as the circumstances would justify it. 

The land-pirates — for they can be called by no 
more appropriate name — finished their supper, and 
turned their attention to the second part of the 
program they had laid out. Evidently they did 
not intend to sack the mansion, but only to appro- 
priate such valuable small articles as could be con- 
veniently carried about their persons. For this 
purpose Turkin and Gragg entered the library; two 
others crossed the hall into the sitting-room, and 
the other three went upstairs. They had not heard 
the tramp of horses in the yard, but Somers, being 
near the side door, which was partly open, listened 
to the sounds as the notes of his own deliverance. 

The time for action had come, and while the 


FIGHTING JOE 


S85 


guerillas were intent upon their plunder, Somers 
left the door where he had been stationed and 
moved round to the rear of the staircase, where he 
expected to find a passage to the cellar; but he 
found none. The house was surrounded by rebel 
cavalry, and it was not safe for him to go out, for 
he did not forget that it was necessary for him to 
escape from the foe without as well as the foe 
within. They were both enemies, and, though one 
was less barbarous than the other, he had hardly 
more relish for Andersonville than for being shot 
by the wretches who held him. 

As the only alternative, he went up the stairs, 
and, avoiding the three men who were searching 
the chambers there, he found the garret steps, and 
went up, where he was not likely to be followed by 
any of his late companions. He had scarcely 
reached this secure position before the commotion 
below indicated that the cavalrymen had com- 
menced their work. One or two shots were fired, 
but the noise immediately subsided, and it was evi- 
dent that the robbers had all been captured. 

“There were eight of them, you said,” Somers 
heard some one in the entry below remark. 

“There were; but one of them was the officer 
who gave the information,” replied another, whom 
the fugitive recognized as Colonel Roman. 

“But he was one of the gang.” 


S86 


FIGHTING JOE 


“He looked like a Yankee officer,” added the 
colonel. 

“We want him, whatever he is, if it is only for 
his evidence against these villains we have cap- 
tured. Colonel Grayhame threatened to hang these 
same scoundrels only yesterday.” 

“The officer who gave me the card is clearly not 
one of this gang.” 

“I don’t understand it,” said the other person, 
who was probably the officer in command of the 
squad of cavalry. 

“I should be very glad of an explanation, but I 
am greatly indebted to the gentleman, and I wish 
to thank him, if nothing more, for the favor he has 
done me,” continued the colonel. 

“I have nothing against him, but I wish to know 
what he is.” 

Somers hoped he would not trouble himself, and 
he was even willing the planter should omit to 
thank him, for the officer’s curiosity and the 
colonel’s gratitude threatened to consign him to a 
rebel prison. He heard a call from the former, 
followed by the tramp of heavy feet on the lower 
staircase. 

“Lieutenant, I hope you will consider my posi- 
tion in this matter,” said the planter. 

“I must do my duty. If the man is a Yankee 
officer, as you think, he must not be permitted to 
roam around the country. He may belong to the 


FIGHTING JOE 


287 


force which is now destroying the railroad; per- 
haps gobbled up by these miscreants. It is not for 
me to say what shall be done with him. I must 
catch him if I can. I saw him standing at the door 
of the dining-room when I looked in at the win- 
dow, and I am positive he has not left the house.” 

“I regard the person as my friend,” added the 
planter, warmly. “My wife and daughters, as 
well as myself, are very grateful to him, for he has 
saved them from insult and outrage, for aught I 
know.” 

“Your feelings and those of your family shall 
be respected. Colonel Roman, but I must do my 
duty,” answered the lieutenant, firmly. 

The officer then ordered his men to search the 
various apartments and closets of the second floor. 
Somers, though the case certainly looked very hope- 
ful for him, with the powerful influence of the 
wealthy planter in his favor, wished to escape ; but 
he thought it would be an easy and safe thing to 
return to Sherman’s army before Atlanta, and he 
was not disposed to be introduced to the lieutenant, 
or even to improve his acquaintance with Colonel 
Roman. If he could conceal himself until the squad 
of cavalry retired, he was satisfied that the planter 
would enable him to return to the army. 

It was very dark in the garret, and while the 
lieutenant and his party were searching the cham- 
bers, Somers carefully felt about him for some 


288 


FIGHTING JOE 


place of concealment. The roof was a four-sided 
one, in which there were no windows; but v/hile 
he was walking about he struck his head against a 
long iron handle, which proved to be attached to a 
shutter or scuttle. This he unfastened and raised, 
and his eyes were greeted by a view of the starry 
sky. The discovery was a welcome one, and he lost 
not a moment in availing himself of the advantage 
which it seemed to afford. 

The lower end of the aperture was within reach 
of his hands, and with great care and no little diffi- 
culty he raised himself and succeeded in gaining 
the roof — an operation which his gymnastic prac- 
tice enabled him to accomplish, for it was a feat 
an untrained person could hardly have performed. 
But he had scarcely reached the roof before he 
heard his pursuers In the attic, and the light from 
their lamps shone up through the scuttle. 

“I see where he has gone !” shouted the lieu- 
tenant, as he discovered the open shutter. 

“He will fall and break his neck,” added the 
planter. 

Somers closed the scuttle and sat down upon it; 
but the game seemed to be up with him. He drew 
his sword and thrust the point into the roof as far 
as he could, causing it to act as a bolt over the 
shutter — hoping by this means to gain a moment’s 
time to examine the situation. There appeared to 
be no means of descending from the roof to the 


FIGHTING JOE 


289 


ground, except by the lightning-rods, which he saw 
rising above the chimneys* Then, if he reached the 
ground, the house was surrounded by rebels, and 
his fate would only be deferred. 

While he was considering these facts, the men 
in the attic were endeavoring to raise the scuttle. 
They did not at once succeed; but Somers’ pros- 
pects were presently destroyed, when several of the 
rebels took hold of the shutter and raised it, tum- 
bling the fugitive over on the roof. A short ladder 
was placed on the floor, and the lieutenant mounted 
to the top of the house. 

“Surrender!” said the officer. 

“I suppose there is no help for it,” replied 
Somers. 

“Not the least; resistance would be useless.” 

“I surrender.” 

“Go down, then, if you please.” 

Somers descended the ladder to the garret, 
where he found Colonel Roman and half a dozen 
cavalrymen. 

“I am sorry you are taken, since you did not wish 
to be taken,” said the planter. 

“I could not very well help myself.” 

The lieutenant led the way downstairs to the 
library, which was the largest room in the house, 
and in which the seven guerillas, now disarmed, 
were held by their captors. 


S90 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Well, Yank, you’ll be counted in with us,” said 
Turkin, with a malicious grin. 

“I have the satisfaction of escaping from your 
hands, if nothing more,” replied Somers. 

“See here, Yank; I cal’lated to shoot you arter 
supper, but I reckon we’ll all hang together.” 

“I think not,” interposed the lieutenant. “You 
have said enough already to convince me that this 
gentleman does not belong to your gang.” 

“He’s a Yank; we took him over yender, and he 
belongs to some gin’ral’s staff. I reckon he’s a 
good haul, and I ought to hev the credit of ketch- 
in’ him.” 

“Your accounts will be settled in a few days, 
and I fancy Colonel Grayhame will hang you 
higher than Haman when he understands this busi- 
ness.” 

“That would be mighty onhandsome, arter we 
ketched the Yankee officer.” 

“Your name, if you please, sir,” said the lieuten- 
ant, turning to the prisoner. 

“Captain Thomas Somers,” replied he, at the 
same time giving his official position and connec- 
tions. 

“You were captured by these men?” 

“I was,” and Somers detailed the particulars of 
the event. “Major de Banyan was shot at the 
same time,” he added, turning to Turkin, who, he 


FIGHTING JOE 


291 


hoped, would endeavor to improve his prospects 
by telling what had become of his friend. 

“I shot him,’’ said Gragg; “and if I’m to be 
hung fur that, I cal’late it won’t be safe to light 
the Yanks much longer.” 

“Was he killed?” asked the lieutenant. 

“I reckon he wan’t; we got him over the creek; 
there he gin out, and we left him and stivered back 
arter his boss. That’s when we took this Yank; 
but Turkin shot his hoss instid of him.” 

“Was the major dead when you left him?’*’ 

“Not jest then; but I cal’late he didn’t stand it 
long.” 

Somers’ worst fears in regard to his friend 
seemed to be confirmed. To the questions of the 
officer he gave true answers, until the history of 
the guerillas’ movements up to the time of their 
arrival at the mansion of the planter had been 
elicited. 

“I was made the catspaw of these men, who 
wished to procure a supper and to rob the house 
without exposing themselves to detection. Their 
purpose was to get the family out of the house,” 
continued Somers. “You did not find your friends 
from Savannah at the next house — did you. Colonel 
Roman?” 

“I did not expect to find them there. Was that 
your scheme?” 

“You bet it wan’t, kun’l,” exclaimed Turkin, as 


29 ^ 


FIGHTING JOE 


though he feared Somers would obtain more credit 
than he deserved. “That’s some of my thinkin’, 
kun’l. The Yank ain’t so good on tricks as I be. 
I told him what to write on that keerd. The Yank 
is great at writin’, but I’m some for plannin’.” 

“Did you read what he wrote on the card?” 
asked Colonel Roman, who could not help laughing 
at the simplicity of the wretch. 

“I reckon I didn’t; I ain’t much at readin’ 
writin’.” 

“I will read it to you,” added the planter, taking 
the card from his pocket: ^ These villains mean 
to roh your house after supper; get a force and cap- 
ture them/ ” 

“Is that what he writ?” demanded Turkin, in a 
fearful rage. 

“It is. The catspaw had a fang.” 

“Then ni hang him.” / 

“You will be hung yourself first.” 

Everything was explained ; and now came up the 
question in regard to the disposition of Somers. 
The lieutenant declared he had no authority to dis- 
charge the prisoner, who was a Union officer, but 
he would report the case to his superiors. 

“That’s inter yer, Yank,” said Turkin. “You’ll 
go with us.” 

Colonel Roman interposed to prevent Somers’ 
longer remaining in the company of the villains. 
The prisoner gave his parole for three days, and 


FIGHTING JOE 


293 


the officer left him with the planter, who promised 
to go with him to the headquarters of the rebel 
army within that time. The lieutenant then de- 
parted with his prisoners, and Somers was treated 
as a guest in the house of the colonel. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE BLOODHOUNDS ON THE TRACK 

In one week from the day on which Somers 
made the acquaintance of Colonel Roman he was 
inside of the stockade at Andersonville. It so hap- 
pened that the general officer with whom rested the 
decision in the case of the prisoner was a personal 
and political opponent of the planter, and the 
colonel had no influence with him. An appeal was 
made to higher authority, but it was unavailing, 
and Somers was hurried away to that miserable 
place, where officers and soldiers died by thousands, 
of sheer inhumanity. 

Colonel Roman promised to continue his exer- 
tions for the release of his friend, or, if he could 
not obtain that, for better treatment than had 
usually been accorded to prisoners of war by the 
Confederacy. It is quite probable that he did so, 
but the subject of his intercession obtained no favor 
on account of it. His experience at Andersonville 
was that of thousands of others. It would require 
a volume to narrate it, and the sad story has been 
294 


FIGHTING JOE 


295 


so often told that it needs not a repetition here. 
The whole civilized world condemns the barbarous 
treatment of prisoners by the Confederacy. 

Week after week and month after month 
dragged away, amid suffering and privation, until 
Sherman’s grand march to the sea filled the rebels 
with terror, and a portion of the prisoners remain- 
ing in their hands were sent to Columbia, South 
Carolina. Somers was among the number. He 
had been a prisoner for nearly five months, and his 
health was already much impaired by his suffer- 
ings — by the scanty and mean food, but quite as 
much by being compelled to witness the misery and 
death which prevailed in the horrid slaughter-pen 
in which he had been confined. Once he had made 
an attempt to escape, but had been hunted down 
and recaptured. 

He arrived at Columbia; but he had made up 
his mind not to stay there. It was sure death to 
one of his temperament to live such a dog’s life as 
that to which he had been doomed. It was better 
to be shot down by the sentinels, or even to be torn 
in pieces by the fangs of the merciless bloodhounds,, 
than to die by inches within the camp of the pris- 
oners. 

Every day a certain number of prisoners, pa- 
roled for the purpose, were allowed to go out after 
wood for two hours. Those who were thus fa- 
vored were obliged to sign a parole, and their 


296 


FIGHTING JOE 


names were handed to the officer of the day, who 
was authorized to permit them to pass. When 
Somers found an opportunity to join one of these 
parties, he gave his parole, as others did; and even 
his sufferings had not so far demoralized him that 
he could violate the solemn pledge. He went out 
with the others, but immediately returned with his 
load of wood. Hastening to the officer of the day, 
he told him he had done his share of the work and 
requested to be released from his parole, which was 
then given back to him. He was now free from his 
obligation, and, having destroyed the paper, if he 
should happen to be recaptured in his attempt to 
escape, it could not be brought against him to sub- 
ject him to the penalty of its violation. 

Others were bringing in wood and timber, and 
passing out again for more. Somers walked out 
with the rest. When they came to the guard they 
were carefully examined again, to see that none but 
paroled officers passed out. They gave their names, 
and the sentinel referred to the list of those paroled 
for that day, and if it was all right, they were 
allowed to pass. 

“Your name?” said the guard to Somers. 

The prisoner gave it. 

“All right,” replied the sentinel, who, of course, 
found the name in the list. 

Somers was now outside of the camp, and dis- 
charged from his parole; but his difficulties had 


FIGHTING JOE 


^9T 


only just commenced, for a guard of eighty men 
was stretched around the tract of woods in which 
the prisoners were at work. He walked away from 
the stockade animated by a hope, though it was but 
a dim one, of breathing once more the air of free- 
dom. Intent upon the object before him, he passed 
a group of emaciated forms, whose constitutions 
were strong enough to enable them to overcome 
the horrors of the hospital, in which they were still 
patients. 

“Somers!” exclaimed one of them, rushing to- 
wards him. 

The young officer turned, and in the tall, pale, 
attenuated person who addressed him he recog- 
nized his friend De Banyan. He looked like a 
wreck, and there was little to remind him of the 
manly and noble form of the major, as he had 
known him five months before. 

“De Banyan!” cried Somers, rushing into the 
arms of his friend, and weeping like a child with 
the joy he could not conceal. 

It was a tender and touching reunion, and even 
the rebel sentinels did not interpose to separate 
them. 

“How came you here?” demanded De Banyan, 
when the first emotions of the happy meeting had 
subsided. 

“I was captured at the time you were shot, but 


298 


FIGHTING JOE 


I have been at Andersonville till a week ago,” 
replied Somers. 

“I have been in the hospital; that’s the reason I 
did not see you.” 

“That must be the reason,” replied Somers, in a 
loud tone; and then, dropping his voice to a whis- 
per, he added: “I am going to escape to-day.” 

“I have been quite sick,” continued the major, 
aloud. “I am on parole” — in a whisper. 

“Are you better?” 

“Much better; I feel pretty well now,” said the 
major. “Wait half an hour for me in the woods.” 

“I will,” replied Somers, as he moved on. 

De Banyan soon joined him. At his own re- 
quest the surgeon had discharged him., and he had 
taken up his parole. With a basket of vials, which 
he found in an anteroom of the hospital, he 
walked boldly through the guards, who, believing 
him still to be a paroled prisoner, permitted him 
to pass. During his convalescence he had been em- 
ployed in various light duties connected with the 
hospital, and had had frequent occasion to pass the 
sentries, so that no suspicion attached to him after 
he had been relieved from his parole. 

With Somers he walked to the woods, and with 
him chopped and gathered sticks. At a point near 
the center of the space surrounded by the sentinels 
they found a pine tree, whose dense foliage prom- 
ised to afford them the shelter they required. At a 


FIGHTING JOE 


299 


favorable moment Somers sprang up into the tree, 
and the major followed him a few minutes later. 
Of course they were seen by their fellow-prisoners, 
and they were obliged to run the risk of being ex- 
posed by any one of them who was vile enough to 
do such a mean act. Men have been known at 
Andersonville, Columbia and other prison camps 
to stoop to the contemptible and cowardly mean- 
ness of betraying a comrade under such circum- 
stances; but, with only a few rare exceptions, the 
prisoners were too manly and noble to be guilty of 
such a base act. 

They had escaped the observation of the sol- 
diers, who were too indolent, or too far off, to no- 
tice what took place within their line. The only 
duty they were called upon to perform, as they 
seemed to regard it, was to prevent any of the pris- 
oners from passing beyond the bounds allotted to 
them. The two hours in which the men were al- 
lowed to gather wood expired soon after Somers 
and De Banyan ascended the tree. 

“Good-by, captain; report me at home, if you 
get through,” said a Massachusetts officer, who 
stood at the foot of the tree when the prisoners 
were ordered back to the camp. 

“I will,” replied Somers, who knew the officer’s 
address. 

The prisoners, laden with their sticks of timber 
and bundles of wood, were driven back to the 


soo 


FIGHTING JOE 


camp, to endure other weeks and months of suf- 
fering, or to die there, as many had done before. 
Somers and the major kept perfectly still until the 
guard had passed the tree and disappeared from 
their view. 

“We shall be missed before long,” said Somers. 

“We will not stop here,” replied De Banyan, as 
he descended the tree and lay down on the ground 
at the foot of it. 

Somers followed him, lying down by his side. 
Having satisfied themselves that they had not been 
observed, they crawled away until the slope of a 
hill concealed them from the view of the camp, 
when they ventured to stand upright, like men, and 
press forward for life and liberty. The continued 
to walk in a southerly direction till they came to a 
creek, over which they swam, in the hope that the 
water would interrupt the scent of the bloodhounds 
which would be put on their track as soon as their 
absence was discovered. 

It was a vain hope. They were in a kind of 
swampy jungle, not more than half a mile from the 
creek, when they heard the fearful cry of the dogs. 

“We are lost!” exclaimed Somers, appalled at 
the horrible sounds. 

“No!” replied De Banyan, with his old energy. 
“Don’t give it up !” 

“I won’t, if you do not,” added Somers, inspired 


FIGHTING JOE 


301 


with courage by the firmness and self-possession of 
his friend. 

“Find a club if you can !” 

They were fortunate enough to find a couple of 
sticks, soaked full of water, with which they hoped 
to make a good fight. 

“Shall we climb a tree?” asked Somers. 

“You are lost if you do,” replied De Banyan, as 
he took from his pocket a roll of cord, which he 
had appropriated in the hospital for another pur- 
pose. 

Unrolling it, he cut it into two pieces, with one 
of which he made a slip-noose, and directed Somers 
to do the same with the other. The dogs were still 
some distance from the spot, and the men in pur- 
suit seemed to be unable to follow them on their 
horses, which explained the major’s policy in choos- 
ing a swamp for his flight. Selecting a narrow 
pass, between two clumps of bushes, which had 
been beaten into a path, he stretched the slip-noose 
over it, just as boys in the country set snares for 
foxes and rabbits. Somers did precisely the same 
thing in another locality. 

De Banyan then bent down a small sapling, so 
that the top of it came over the snare, and attached 
the end of the cord to it. The little tree was held 
down by weaving the branches into the bushes, just 
strong enough to hold it down, but so that any 
force beyond its own elasticity would disengage it. 


FIGHTING JOE 


S02 

The contrivance formed what is sometimes called 
a “twitch-up snare.” Somers knew all about it, and 
set his own in the same manner. 

By this time the dogs were upon them, and each 
of them stepped behind the trap he had set. The 
hounds made directly towards them, two by one 
path and one by the other. 

“Come on, doggy,” said De Banyan, as he stood 
coolly waiting the issue of the enterprise. “Stand 
by your club, Somers, if it fails.” 

“I am all ready,” replied Somers, as he nerved 
his arm for the conflict, if one should be necessary. 

On rushed the bloodhounds, with their fiendish 
yelp, the one that approached De Banyan being a 
few feet in advance of the others. He dashed into 
the narrow path, thrusting his head through the 
noose, drawing it tight around his neck, and detach- 
ing the tree. The elasticity of the sapling gave 
him a tremendous twitch and lifted his fore legs 
from the ground. The spring was not strong 
enough to hold his whole weight, and the hound 
hung by the neck, partially supported by his hind 
legs. 

Somers’ snare was not quite so successful, but 
the spring choked the dog and held him fast. The 
third hound, dodging the obstruction in his path, 
rushed towards him from another direction; but 
De Banyan was at his side by this time, and with a 
few heavy blows they killed the ugly beast. Of the 


FIGHTING JOE 


SOS 

other two, one was nearly choked to death, but 
both were quickly despatched with the clubs. 
“That job is done,” said De Banyan. 

“And well done,” replied Somers, as they re- 
sumed their flighty 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE PILGRIMAGE TO THE SEA 

It was not very easy traveling in the swamp, 
but it had this advantage, that they could not be 
pursued by cavalry. They had silenced the howl 
of the dogs, and their pursuers could have no idea 
of the direction they had taken. The killing of 
the bloodhounds gave the fugitives all the advan- 
tage, and they ‘‘doubled^’ on the hunters by re- 
turning to the creek which they had crossed before. 
After following the stream for about five miles, as 
there were no signs of a pursuit in this direction, 
they halted to wait for the protecting shades of 
night, when they hoped to find some of the negroes, 
whom recaptured prisoners had uniformly repre- 
sented as kind and devoted to the last degree. 

It would be several hours before the journey 
could be safely resumed, and our reunited friends 
had much to say of the past and the future. Each 
wished to know the history of the other since they 
had parted. Somers accounted for himself first, 
and De Banyan then exhibited the scar of an ugly 
304 


FIGHTING JOE 


305 


wound in the head, which was the one given him by 
the guerilla. It had knocked him from his horse, 
but he had soon recovered his senses, and the vil- 
lains had conducted him over the creek, where he 
fainted. When he came to himself, his captors 
had left him ; but he was soon picked up by a squad 
of the regular rebel cavalry and sent first to the 
hospital, then to Columbia, where he had been 
from that time. He had fully recovered from his 
wound, but his health was much impaired by hard 
usage and poor food. He had gone to the hospital 
to die, as he thought, but his vigorous constitution 
enabled him to survive the medical treatment. 

He had been too feeble to attempt to escape, as 
hundreds of others had done, but he was now in 
better condition than he had been before since his 
capture. In the hospital, by the exercise of his 
ingenuity, he had obtained better food, which had, 
in a measure, improved his health. The sight of 
Somers had given him new life and hope, and, 
though he was but a mere shadow of his former 
self, he felt able to undergo all perils and priva- 
tions on the road to liberty. 

“I think we have avoided our pursuers,” said 
Somers, when the major had finished his narrative. 
“What shall we do next?” 

“Keep clear of the rebels, if we can; if we can’t, 
bluff them off,” replied De Banyan, hopefully. 

“But where shall we go?” 


506 


FIGHTING JOE 


“We must take the best route to the sea; per- 
haps the nearest is not the best. A great many 
men have escaped from Camp Sorghum, but I be- 
lieve one-half of them have been caught again.” 

“Then our chances are not first rate.” 

“They are very good, if we manage well. So 
far as I know, all who have had the escape fever 
attempted to reach the sea by the Santee River, and 
I fancy that river is pretty closely watched now.” 

“Then it is best not to go that way.” 

“No. About twenty miles from us to the south- 
ward the road to Augusta crosses the Edisto River. 
I am in favor of taking that route, because I don’t 
know that any of the prisoners have gone that 
way.” 

The point was settled, and as soon as it was dark 
the fugitives started on their journey to the sea. 
Before night they had decided upon the direction 
of the Augusta road, and succeeded in reaching it. 
Both of them were in rags, and they were wet and 
cold. They had eaten nothing since morning, and 
the greatest obstacle with which they had now to 
contend was their own feebleness. They reached 
the road, but, though the night was not half gone, 
they were completely exhausted. They were too 
cold to sit down and rest, and the exercise of walk- 
ing seemed to impart no warmth to their weak and 
almost bloodless frames. They were not in con- 
dition to encounter the hardships in their path. 


FIGHTING JOE 


307 


De Banyan, with his soul of iron, gave out first, 
and actually sank down by the side of the road. 
Somers could hardly keep from weeping when he 
realized the condition of his companion. He was 
not much stronger himself, and the enterprise 
promised to be an utter failure. It was the month 
of December; the air was chilly and the ground 
cold and wet, and something must be done for the 
major, or he would perish before morning. 

Somers was weak in body, but he was still strong 
in spirit. The condition of his friend appealed to 
him with an eloquence which he could not resist 
and moved him to greater energy. Taking from 
the fence a number of rails, he made a kind of plat- 
form of them in a concealed spot in the field, which 
he covered with leaves, twigs and cornstalks, ob- 
tained from an adjacent lot, until he had made a 
tolerably dry and comfortable bed. He conducted 
the major to his new quarters and laid him on the 
couch he had prepared. 

“Somers,” said De Banyan, feebly. 

“What shall I do for you now?” 

“Nothing more, Somers. I am used up.” 

“You will be better soon.” 

“Never, my dear fellow.” 

“Don’t give up.” 

“I wouldn’t give up while there is a fiber left of 
me to lean on ; but I am almost gone. Somers, take 
care of yourself now; you can do me no good. 


308 


FIGHTING JOE 


Follow this road till you come to the river, and 
then find a boat and float down to the blockading 
ships.” 

shall not leave you, De Banyan,” exclaimed 
Somers, horrified by the suggestion. 

“You can’t do a thing for me. I shall die in a 
few hours. I didn’t think I was so near gone when 
I left the camp, or I wouldn’t have burdened you 
with the care of me.” 

“I should have been caught before this time if it 
hadn’t been for you. I will never desert you, De 
Banyan. God would not suffer me to live if I 
should do so mean a thing I” replied Somers, ear- 
nestly. 

“As you love me, Somers, save yourself. It 
would be the greatest favor you could do me to 
insure your own safety,” replied the sufferer, in 
quivering tones. 

“I will not leave you, but I will save you. I can 
and will,” added Somers, with energy. “You shall 
not die. Keep a good heart for a little while, and 
you shall be saved.” 

“I will keep up as well as I can; but when a 
strong man like me sinks he generally goes all at 
once. Leave me, I beg of you, Somers. It is the 
last favor I have to ask of you.” 

“I would not if you begged it on your bended 
knee. I must leave you for a time, but you shall 
be saved, if God will permit.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


309 


“God bless you, Somers,” faintly ejaculated the 
sufferer. 

Somers left him and hastened back to the road, 
carefully noticing the path, so that he could easily 
find the spot again. When he reached it, he was 
almost overcome by his emotions and by his own 
exhaustion. He wanted strength, at that trying 
moment, more than ever before in his life- 
strength to save himself and his friend. He knelt 
down upon the cold ground and prayed for 
strength with an earnestness which had never be- 
fore burned in his soul. He trusted in God, and 
he asked for guidance in this most trying experi- 
ence of his life. 

He rose from his knees. He knew that the good 
Father had heard him — was with him. Strength 
came, if not to his muscles, in the increased earnest- 
ness of his purpose. He walked along the road till 
he came to the house, which the cornfields he had 
seen assured him could not be far distant. It was 
the mansion of a large plantation, and beyond it 
was its village of negro huts. The blacks were 
friendly, but he could hardly expect to find among 
them what he required to restore the waning life 
of De Banyan. 

Somers was a desperate man. It seemed to him 
then that the rebels had no rights which he was 
bound to respect. Throwing off his dilapidated 


SIO 


FIGHTING JOE 


boots, he approached the house and went to one of 
the windows. To his surprise, he found it partly 
open. With all necessary care he raised the sash 
and got into the house. There was just light 
enough in the room to enable him to find his way 
to the mantel, on which were a lamp and matches. 
He lighted the lamp and looked about him. There 
was a bed in the room, on which lay an object 
which would have frozen the blood in the veins of 
a timid person. 

It was a corpse, the eyes covered with cents en- 
closed in paper, and the jaw tied up with a hand- 
kerchief. Somers glanced at it : he was startled, but 
not appalled, for death in its most horrid forms 
was so familiar to him that he did not shrink from 
the sight. He had a mission to perform, and he 
proceeded to search the room for what he wanted. 
In a large closet he found two full suits of men’s 
clothing, one of them a rebel uniform, and he con- 
cluded that the deceased had been an officer in the 
army. On a table, with a number of vials, he found 
a bottle of brandy, of which he drank a few swal- 
lows himself. 

Dropping the clothing out of the window, where 
he could take it at his leisure, he continued the 
search, and found a couple of revolvers in a 
drawer, with caps and cartridges, which he appro- 
priated. He then left the room, and in the hall 


FIGHTING JOE 


Sir 


found an overcoat; but the most needed articles 
were bacon and bread, of which he discovered a 
plentiful supply in another room. Filling a basket 
with the food, he hastened to make his escape. 

“Is that you, Alfred?” said the voice of a wom- 
an on the second floor. 

“Yes,” replied Somers. 

“Is everything right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t you think you had better shut the win- 
dows ? I am afraid some creature will get into the 
room.” 

“I will,” answered Somers, afraid to use many 
words. 

He crept back into the chamber of death, and 
respecting the fears of the woman, who might be 
the wife or the mother of the deceased, he closed 
three of the four windows, and when he had passed 
out himself, shut the remaining one. With the 
utmost care he departed from the house, laden 
with the precious articles he had obtained. It was 
one o’clock at night, as he had seen by a clock in 
the house, and all was still. At a safe distance 
from the mansion, he took off the rags he wore and 
put on the rebel uniform, leaving the other suit, 
which was heavier and warmer, for De Banyan. 
Thus relieved of a portion of his burden, he has- 
tened to the couch of his perishing companion. 


S12 


FIGHTING JOE 


“How do you feel, my best friend?” said Som- 
ers, as he bent over the sick man. 

“Is that you, Somers? I hoped you had gone,” 
replied the major, very faintly. 

“No; I am come with life and hope,” added 
Somers, as he placed the bottle of brandy to the 
sick man’s lips. 

He drank all that his faithful companion dared 
to give him. It warmed his stomach and gave him 
new life. 

“God bless you, Somers! I was thinking that 
brandy would save my life. I felt as though my 
vitals were frozen.” 

“Could you get up for a moment or two?” 

“Oh, yes I I feel like a new man,” answered the 
patient, who was not only strengthened but exhila- 
rated by the strong liquor he had taken. 

“Let me put these clothes on you.” 

“Clothes?” said the major, as he rose to his feet. 

“Yes; I have a whole suit for you,” replied 
Somers, as he assisted him to put on the dress he 
had brought. 

They were warm and dry, and the poor fellow 
manifested a childish delight as he put them on. 
They were rather small, but they were warm and 
comfortable. To these was added the overcoat. 

“Now, could you eat bacon and bread?” asked 
Somers. 

“Could I eat them? I could if I had them.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


313 


“You have them,” replied his attentive friend, 
as he brought the basket to his couch. 

They both ate heartily, and when they had fin- 
ished, De Banyan declared that he could walk ten 
miles more that night. 

Somers knew that he could not — that he was 
under the influence of the brandy and over-esti- 
mated his strength. When he left the hospital he 
was as feeble as an infant, and nothing but the 
flashing hope of freedom could have sustained his 
weak body in the battle with the bloodhounds and 
the walk from the creek. His friend determined 
to keep him quiet for a few days, if possible, as- 
sured that otherwise the enterprise must fail. 

“Do you feel warm?” asked Somers, when he 
had told the story of his visit to the house. 

, “All but my feet,” replied the patient. 

“I will warm them,” added the devoted nurse, 
as he took from his pocket a pair of socks, wmich 
he had transferred from the old to the new suit. 
“These are my fighting socks, but they shall do the 
best work now they have ever done.” 

De Banyan protested, but Somers persisted, and 
put the cherished mementoes of Lilian upon his 
feet. 

“Now go to sleep,” continued Somers, as he ad- 
justed the overcoat, and placed the rags of which 
the major had divested himself on his feet. 

He went to sleep, and Somers departed on an ex- 


FIGHTING JOE 


S14* 

ploring expedition. In a pine forest, half a mile 
distant, he found an old shanty, which had been 
used for men engaged in drawing pitch from the 
trees. To this he transferred his patient, and kept 
him there for a week. The negroes on the planta- 
tion discovered the fugitives, but they were faith- 
ful friends and supplied them with food and bed- 
clothes, so that they were quite comfortable. 

From these devoted allies of the Union army 
Somers learned that the deceased person he had 
seen in the house was the son of the planter, who 
had been sent home wounded. The articles taken 
had been missed, but the robbery was attributed 
to a couple of negroes who had run away at the 
time. 

De Banyan gained strength each day, now that 
he was well clothed and well fed. After a week’s 
rest, the fugitives started again, guided by a negro 
belonging to the plantation, who conducted them 
to the river and provided them with a boat. Night 
after night they floated down the stream, guided 
and fed by the negroes, till they reached the sea, 
and went on board of one of the blockaders. 

Once more they were beneath the old flag; once 
more they were in the hands of friends ; and from 
their hearts went up the song of jubilee to Him 
who had guided and strengthened them in their 
pilgrimage from darkness and death to light and 


FIGHTING JOE 


315 


liberty. When they reached Port Royal they heard 
of the capture of Savannah and the conquering 
march of Sherman from Atlanta to the sea. Then 
they sang a new song of jubilee, for the days of the 
rebellion were numbered. 


CHAPTER XXX 


MAJOR SOMERS AND FRIENDS 

Somers and De Banyan proceeded from Port 
Royal to Washington, by way of Fortress Mon- 
roe. “Fighting Joe” was no longer in the field of 
active operations, and our officers resigned their 
positions on the staff. The doughty general had 
won the admiration of the nation; the present gen- 
eration will gratefully remember his efficient ser- 
vices, and posterity will enroll his name among the 
ablest and bravest defenders of the Union. 

The term of service of the major’s regiment had 
expired, and it had been sent home and mustered 
out. Consequently he was out of employment. 
Somers was determined that he should not remain 
so long. There was a certain Senator Guilford in 
Washington, wffio considered himself under strong 
oligations to the young officer, and Somers imme- 
diately paid his respects to the distinguished man. 
He was warmly greeted, and, when he had told his 
story, he was bold enough to ask a great favor for 
his friend. 


816 


FIGHTING JOE 


317 


“I will do what I can for him, Captain Somers, 
you may be sure. I remember him well, and I have 
always heard excellent accounts of him from your 
friend the general.” 

“There is not a better man in the service, sir, and 
he is worthy of any place which the government 
can give him,” replied Somers, warmly. 

“I know he is. By the way, captain, a certain 
general called upon me in relation to your ahairs 
more than a year ago.” 

“Indeed, sir?” And Somers understood that he 
was indebted to the Senator for his position in the 
regular army. “I am very grateful to you, Mr. 
Guilford.” 

“Don’t mention it; my daughter, whose life you 
saved, thinks I have not half paid the debt yet.” 

“You have more than paid it, sir, and if I had 
known that I was indebted to you for my position 
I should hardly have dared to speak to you in be- 
half of Major de Banyan.” 

“Don’t be modest, Captain Somers. I have no 
scruples whatever in asking favors for such officers 
as yourself and your friend. I invariably refuse to 
say a word for any military man unless I know 
that he is thoroughly meritorious. But, captain, 
you do not ask for my daughter.” 

“I heard she was married and lived in Philadel- 
phia,” replied Somers, with some confusion. 

“That is the case; she often speaks of you, and 


318 


FIGHTING JOE 


when you pass through Philadelphia you must see 
her.’’ 

“I will certainly do so, sir,” replied the captain, 
as he took his leave. 

Three days after he received a note from the 
Senator, with De Banyan’s commission as a major 
in the regular army. He hastened to communicate 
the news to his friend. The gratitude of the major 
knew no bounds, and he declared that Somers had 
been more to him than all the rest of the world. A 
furlough of thirty days had been granted them, and 
they started, the one for Pinchbrook, and ^ the 
other for Tennessee, in search of his son, who had 
returned to Nashville when the army moved from 
Chattanooga. 

On the way home, Somers called upon the Sen- 
ator’s daughter, and found her as pleasing, as 
pretty and as grateful as ever; but his heart was 
farther north, and he hastened to the waiting arms 
of his loving friends. Lilian wept with joy when 
she saw him, and Grandmother Ashford insisted 
upon telling about the defense of Boston during 
the “last war.” 

“Lilian, I have lost my socks,” said Somers, 
when Mrs. Ashford had safely returned to their 
homes the firemen who went out to cut away the 
bridges in case of an invasion. “I had to put them 
on my friend De Banyan’s feet, when he had nearly 
perished from cold and exhaustion.” 


FIGHTING JOE 


J19 


“I am so glad you did!’’ 

“I suffered myself, in Andersonville and Colum- 
bia, rather than wear them out, but I could not 
resist the appeal of my suffering friend.” 

“I am glad you did not.” 

‘‘De Banyan is a noble fellow,” added Somers. 

“Shall I never see him?” 

“I hope you will;” and she did, as the reader 
will soon learn. 

Somers went to Pinchbrook, and was welcomed 
as one who had come forth from the grave. His 
mother wept over him, his father rejoiced over 
him, and Captain Barney, the friend of the family, 
“crowed” over him. He spent his thirty days be- 
tween Boston and Pinchbrook, and at the end of 
that time reported for duty in Washington. He 
was ordered to join the regiment in which he had 
been commissioned, then in the line before Peters- 
burg. In the bloody battle for the recovery of Fort 
Steadman, which had been captured by the rebels 
in a night attack, he was one of the first to mount 
the rampart and turn the tide against the enemy. 
He fought with desperation, and urged his men to 
deeds of valor which did much to retrieve the for- 
tunes of the day. 

For his heroic conduct on that eventful morning 
he was made a major. De Banyan was there also, 
and what one did for his company the other did for 
his regiment. The brave Tennesseean was not for- 


820 


FIGHTING JOE 


gotten nor overlooked. His merit was promptly 
recognized, and when the conquering host moved 
forward in pursuit of the flying brigades of the 
rebels he was a brigadier-general of volunteers. 

Then came to them in the field and then flashed 
over the telegraph wires to all parts of the nation 
the thrilling intelligence that Richmond was cap- 
tured. Still the indomitable Grant drew his grip 
tighter and tighter upon the scattering hordes of 
the rebellion; still Meade pressed on, and still 
Sheridan thundered over and through the shattered 
hosts of treason, until Lee surrendered the remnant 
of the vaunted Army of Northern Virginia. The 
gallant Army of the Potomac was there to witness 
the humiliation of its old enemy. 

All over the land cannon roared, bells pealed, 
bonfires blazed, and all the people shouted “Glory, 
hallelujah !” as the military power of the rebel- 
lion crumbled and fell. Firmly had it stood, defy- 
ing freedom, justice and humanity; it drooped and 
expired almost in the twinkling of an eye. 

The nation was filled with joy. Soldiers, sailors 
and civilians rejoiced together, and from the hearts 
of all rose the pasan of thanksgiving for the victory 
which had crowned our arms. Then, in the midst 
of the people^s gladness, came the terrible shock 
of the assassination of the nation’s ruler — of the 
wise, noble and good President Lincoln; and the 
redeemed Union was shrouded in mourning for 


FIGHTING JOE 


321 


him, who fell just as he rose to the glory of the 
mighty work he had accomplished. 

The war was virtually ended. The surrender of 
Lee was followed by that of Johnston and others 
in command of portions of the rebel army. The 
regiment to which Major Somers belonged was 
ordered to garrison a post; and De Banyan, who 
was attached to the same regiment, but for brave 
and skilful conduct in one of Sheridan’s mighty 
charges, had been promoted to the rank of lieu- 
tenant-colonel, also joined the command when his 
brigade was dissolved. 

“General de Banyan, we meet again!” exclaimed 
Somers, as they joined hands, after several months 
of separation. 

“Glory, hallelujah 1” shouted the general. “The 
war is over! The Union is saved! Rebellion is 
forever crushed ! Somers, my dear fellow, T would 
hug you if it were dignified for a lieutenant-colonel 
to do such a thing.” 

“Never mind your dignity, general. I feel like 
being silly, now that ‘this cruel war is over.’ I am 
delighted to see you. Do you remember Colum- 
bia? Do you remember the bloodhounds?” 

“Shall I ever forget them ?” replied De Banyan, 
feelingly. 

“Do you remember that night when we reached 
the Augusta road?” 

“I could not forget that any more than I could 


FIGHTING JOE 


forget you,” answered the general, as he again 
wrung the hand of his devoted friend. “Somers, 
our country is saved. We have fought it through 
to the end.” 

“We have had a hard time of it. Do you sup- 
pose, De Banyan, if it were to be done over again, 
you would be willing to go through with it once 
more?” asked Somers. 

“Upon my soul, I should !” replied the general, 
warmly. “If I knew I had to die on the cold, wet 
ground, by the side of the Augusta road, after 
three years of hard service, I would go in as cheer- 
fully as I would eat my dinner when I am hungry. 
Somers, if there is any man that loves his country, 
I do. I am willing to fight for her, and willing to 
die for her. This was a most infernal rebellion, 
and I thank God I have lived to see the end of it.” 

“So do I,” responded Somers, fervently. 

With the end of the war ends our story, though 
a few months later an interesting event occurred in 
Boston, which we have not the heart to withhold 
from our readers, who have patiently followed our 
hero through his career of duty and suffering. As 
they have seen him in the carnage of battle, in the 
toils of the foe, in the loathsome prison camps of 
the rebels, so should they now see him in the hour 
of his greatest earthly joy. The event to which we 


FIGHTING JOE 


allude was chronicled in the papers of the city as 
follows : 

“December 7, by the Rev. Dr. , Major 

Thomas Somers, of the — th United States Infan- 
try, to Miss Lilian Ashford, daughter of Richard 
C. Ashford, Esq., of this city. (No cards.)” 

No. — Rutland Street was brilliantly illumi- 
nated as the stars broke forth from the storm- 
clouds of that snowy Thanksgiving evening. There 
was a select assemblage of gentlemen, civil and 
military, and of ladies, old and young, from the 
matrons in sober black to the maidens decked in 
colors appropriate to the joyous occasion. “Fight- 
ing Joe” had been cordially invited, but a severe 
illness alone prevented his attendance. 

Half an hour before the time appointed for the 
ceremony a carriage stopped at the door, from 
which stepped a tall gentleman, dressed in an ele- 
gant new uniform, on the shoulder-straps of which 
glistened the silver leaves that indicated his rank. 
With nervous energy he dashed up the steps, and 
endangered the bell wire by the desperate pull he 
gave. His summons was promptly answered by a 
colored gentleman in white cotton gloves. 

“Major Somers,” said the gentleman, senten- 
tiously. 

“The major is engaged just now, sir, and cannot 
be seen,” replied the waiter. 


S24f 


FIGHTING JOE 


“Can’t be seen!” exclaimed the arrival. 

“Not just now, sir. Walk in, if you plea-se, sir.” 

“Tell him Colonel de Banyan is here; and if 
that don’t fetch him, say ‘Magenta’ to him.” 

The waiter went upstairs to the front room, 
where the bride and groom and their more intimate 
friends were assembled. 

“Colonel de Banyan, from Magenta, sir. 


“From where?” roared Somers, jumping from 
his chair, so thoroughly convulsed with laughter 
that the buttons on his new coat threatened to be 
wrenched from their proper spheres. “Show him 
up,” added he, when he could speak the words. 

“My dear Somers, I am with you once again,” 
said the colonel, as he rushed into the room and 
seized his friend by both hands. “From the deep- 
est depths of an honest heart I congratulate you 
upon your approaching happiness.” 

“Thank you, general. I am delighted to see 
you,” replied Somers. “It needed only your pres- 
ence to complete my happiness.” 

“Mrs. Somers, I greet you,” continued the 
colonel, dashing towards the old lady and saluting 
her with the most courtly elegance. 

“Sakes alive 1” exclaimed the happy matron. “If 
it ain’t Captain de Bangyang!” 

“Colonel de Banyan, if you please, is my present 


FIGHTING JOE 


S25 


appellation, though I am sometimes called General 
de Banyan. I trust you are quite well, madam.” 

“Well, I’m pretty toler’ble, I thank ye. General 

de Ban Well, I’m — I declare, I’m so flus- 

trated I can’t speak a word to-night.” 

“Madam, you are the proud and happy mother 
of the noblest young man in this noble republic,” 
said the colonel, magnificently. 

“Excuse me, De Banyan, but there is a lady here 
who has long desired to make your acquaintance,” 
interposed Somers, as he led his friend to another 
part of the room, where Lilian sat, blushing and 
beauti ful. 

“Lilian, this is my friend. General de Banyan. 
General, Miss Ashford.” 

“Miss Ashford,” said the general, with a digni- 
fied bow, as he took the gloved hand that was ex- 
tended to him, “I bend in homage before one who 
is mighty enough in her beauty and her virtues to 
win the the heart of m.y friend Major Somers.” 

Lilian blushed deeper than ever as she expressed 
her pleasure at meeting the man who had shared 
the toils and the sufferings of her intended hus- 
band. 

“Miss Ashford, I have long known you, though 
we now meet for the first time; but permit me to 
add that my friend is the only man in the United 
States who is worthy of the hand which is so soon 


FIGHTING JOE 


S9.6 

to be his,” added De Banyan, who was clearly in a 
“magnificent” mood on this occasion. 

“I am afraid I shall be jealous of you, general,” 
laughed Lilian. 

“Nay, the major’s heart is big enough to hold us 
all, Miss Ashford,” continued De Banyan, still 
holding the little hand. “I pray to God that he 
may never be called upon to do as much for you as 
he has done for me. When you sink down to die 
upon the cold, wet ground in winter, exhausted by 
sickness, borne under by starvation, with the sav- 
age bloodhounds baying in the distance, and more 
savage rebels lying in wait for you; when you lie 
down to die under these awful conditions, and he” 
— pointing to the major — “steps between you and 
the quaking messenger of death, who already has 
a grip upon you; when he, at the imminent peril 
of his life, procures food and clothing to restore 
you ; when he has stood over you like an angel and 
won back the breath of life to your feeble body — 
when he has done this for you, you will know him 
as I know him.” 

As he finished, a great tear slid down each side 
of his bronzed face; but he dashed it away and 
smiled again. Lilian pressed the great hand she 
held, and a tear burned among the roses of her 
bright cheek. 

“But all this, and more, has he done for me!” 


i 


FIGHTING JOE 


327 


exclaimed Somers, pointing to the colonel. “When 
I was wounded and helpless ” 

“Upon my word, we are getting sentimental, 
major, and we had better subside,” interposed the 
colonel. “Introduce me to the rest of the people.” 

Somers complied, and to each De Banyan made 
one of his characteristic speeches; and perhaps he 
would have been voted ridiculous, if his eloquence 
had not a moment before started the tears of more 
than half the persons in the room. 

Among those present was John Somers, the 
major’s twin brother, who had come home to par- 
ticipate in this festive scene. On his arm was a 
beautiful young lady; but who and what she was, 
we must, for prudential reasons, decline to explain 
in this volume. 

The clergyman came; the ceremony was per- 
formed, and the interesting incidents which follow 
it were duly and properly disposed of; and never 
was a happy couple more sincerely congratulated. 

“Mrs. Somers, permit me to express my warm- 
est hopes for your future happiness,” said De Ban- 
yan. “May your husband be to you all that he has 
been to me; he can be no more; he will be no less.” 

There was nothing to mar the harmony of the 
occasion. Grandmother Ashford mercifully per- 
mitted the heroes of the “last war” to rest in their 
honored graves, and all gave a hearty godspeed 


328 


FIGHTING JOE 


to the happy couple as they twain set out on the 
blissful journey of wedlock. 

Major Somers is a man of good motives, and of 
high Christian principles, won in the day of trial 
and suffering, no less than in prosperity; and we 
doubt not he will be as true to his God, his country 
and him.self in the future as he has been in the past, 
when, by his fidelity, his bravery and his patriotism, 
he carved out his fortunes on the battle-fields of 
the Civil War. 


THE END 


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covers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount 
of treasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the 
voyage serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most 
captious boy could desire. 

The Search for the Silver City ; A Tale of Adventure in 

Yucatan. By James Otis. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam 
yacht Day Dream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is destroyed 
by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They 
hear of the wonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, 
and with the help of a faithful Indian ally carry off a number of the 
golden images from the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last 
their escape is effected in an astonishing manner. The story is so 
full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with 
the novelty and realism of the narrative. 

A Runaway Brig; or. An Accidental Cruise. By 

James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmer- 
ing sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with 
Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell- back. Bob 
Brace, on the brig Bonita. The beys discover a mysterious document 
W'hich enables them to find a burled treasure. They are stranded on 
an island and at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure 
to be fascinated with this entertaining story. 

The Treasure Finders : A Boy’s Adventures in 

Nicaragua. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father’s 
Indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. The 
boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three 
golden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatest 
difficulty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. We 
doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than “The 
Treasure Finders.” 

Jack, the Hunchback. A Story of the Coast of Maine. 

By James Otis. Price $1.00. 

This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elizabeth, 
on the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most interesting. 
From first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us 
along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses 
Its force. 

With Washington at Monmouth: A Story of Three 

Philadelphia Boys. By James Otis. l2mo, ornamental cloth, olivina 

edges, illustrated, price $1.50. 

Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular 
and frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British 
occupied the city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life 
Bklllfully drawn, and the glimpses of Washington’s soldiers which are 
given shown that the work has not been hastily done, or without con- 
siderable study. The story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are 
all of Mr. Otis’ works. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tha 

publisher. A. L. BUBT, 52-58 Duane Street. New York* 


4 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

WitH Lafayette at Yorktown: A Story of How Two 

Boys Joined the Continental Army. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental 
cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50. 

Two lads from Portm.uth, N. H., attempt to enlist In the Colonial 
Army, and are given employment as spies. There is no lack of exciting 
incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excite- 
ment brimming with facts which every bo.v should be familiar with, 
and while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and 
Ned Allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain 
In his memory long after that which he has memorized from text- 
books has been forgotten. 

At the Siege of Havana. Being the Experiences of 

Three Boys Serving under Israel Putnam in 1762. By James Otis. 12mo, 
ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price ®1.50. 

“At the Siege of Havana” deals with that portion of the Island’s 
history when the English king captured the capital, thanks to the 
assistance given by the troops from New England, led in part by Col. 
Israel Putnam. 

The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented as 
telling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas 
Vallet. Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily. 
In the tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on 
historical facts. 

The Defense of Fort Henry. A Story of Wheeling 

Creek in 1777. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, 
illustrated, price |l.50. 

Nowhere in the bistorj of our country can be found more heroic or 
thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women 
who founded the settlement of Wheeling In the Colony of Virginia. The 
recital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can 
be Imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed b.v Major McCulloch 
and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice 
of blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers. 

The Capture of the Laughing Mary. A Story of Three 

New York Boys in 1776. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine 
edges, price $1.50. 

“During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of the 
Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington’s 
person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They 
do some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an 
American navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the 
work. Mr. Otis’ books are too well known to require any particular 
commendation to the young.” — Evening Post. 

With Warren at Bunker Hill. A Story of the Siege of 

Boston. By James Otis. 12mo, ornametnal cloth, olivine edges, iUus 
trated, price $1.50. 

“This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the da.v after 
the doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life 
In Boston, introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, 
shows Gen. Warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the 
battle of Bunker Hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. The 
three heroes, George Wentworth, Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker, 
Incur the enmity of a young Tory, who causes them many adventures 
the boys will like to read.” — Detroit Free Press. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tho 

publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 5 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

With the Swamp Fox. The Story of General Marion’s 

Spies. By James Otis. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

This story deals with General Francis Marion’s heroic struggle in the 
Carolinas. General Marion’s arrival to take command of these brave 
men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and 
although the story is devoted to what the lads did, the Swamp Fox 
is ever present in the mind of the reader. 

On the Kentucky Frontier. A Story of the Fighting 

Pioneers of the West. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
In the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than 
that of the work done on the Mississippi river by a handful of frontiers- 
men. Mr. Otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the 
arrival of Major Clarke’s force at Corn Island, until Kaskaskia was 
captured. He relates that part of Simon Kenton’s life history which 
is not usually touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. 
This is one of the most entertaining books for young people which has 
been published. 

Sarah Dillard’s Ride. A Story of South Carolina in 

iu 1780. By James Oris. i2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“This book deals with the Carolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of detail of 
the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against the king’s troops. 
Major Ferguson is the prominent British officer of the story, which is 
told as though coming from a youth who experienced these adventures. 
In this way the famous ride of Sarah Dillard is brought out as an 
incident of the plot.’’ — Boston Journal. 

A Tory Plot. A Story of the Attempt to Kill General 

Washington. By James Otis. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“ ‘A Tory Plot’ is the story of two lads who overhear something 
of the plot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryou to capture 
or murder Washington. They communicate their knowledge to Gen, 
Putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role of detectives 
In the matter. They do so, and meet with many adventures and hair- 
breadth escapes. The boys are, of course, mythical, but they serve to en- 
able the author to put into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge 
concerning one phase of the Revolution.’’ — Pittsburgh Times. 

A Traitor’s Escape. A Story of the Attempt to Seize 

Benedict Arnold, By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
“This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing 
clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this 
country. In an historical work dealing with this country’s past, no 
plot can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the 
attempt and partial success of Benedict Arnold’s escape to New York, 
where he remained as the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who 
actually figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washing- 
ton, are included as characters.’’ — Albany Union. 

A Cruise with Paul Jones. A Story of Naval Warfare 

in 1776. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrate, price $1.00. 

“This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones’ adventurous life 
when he was hovering off the British coast, watching for an oppor- 
tunity to strike the enemy a blow. It deals more particularly with 
his descent upon Whitehaven, the seizure of Lady Selkirk’s plate, and 
the famous battle with the Drake. The boy who figures in the tale 
is one who was taken from a derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this 
particular cruise w’as begun.’’ — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price By tb9 
publisher. A. L. BUBT. 52-58 Duane Street. New York. 


6 A. L. burt'^s books for young people. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Corporal Lige’s Eecruit. A Story of Crown Point and 

Ticonderoga. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1,00. 

“In ‘Corporal Ligo’s Recruit,’ Mr. Otis tells the amusing story of an 
old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king In ’58, and who 
takes the lad, Isaac Rice, as his ‘personal recruit.’ The lad acquits 
himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen ‘in the name of God and the con- 
tinental congress,’ infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which 
will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point. Ticon- 
deroga, Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical namet 
appear in this dramatic tale.’’ — Boston Globe. 

Morgan, the Jersey Spy. A Story of the Siege of York- 

town in 1781. By James Otis. ISmo, cloth, illustrated, price Si. 00. 

“The two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details 
of the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived 
on the banks of the York river, and who aided the Jersey spy in his 
dangerous occupation. In the guise of fishermen the lads visit York- 
town, are suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks 
his life to save them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with a 
squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of 
friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one 
of the most entertaining books of the year.’’ — Inter-Ocean. 

The Young Scout: The Story of a West Point Lieu- 

tenant. By Edward S. Ellis. 12tno, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the 
most terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has w'oven 
in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo’ s last raid. 
The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a recent graduate of West Point. 
Ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate 
chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly 
escapes with his life. In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of 
Indian stories now before the public. 

Adrift in the Wilds: The Adventures of Two Ship- 

wrecked Boys, By Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San Fran- 
cisco. Off the coast of California the steamer takes fire. The two boys 
reach the shore with several of the passengers. Young Brandon be- 
comes separated from his party and is captured by hostile Indians, 
but is afterwards rescued. This is a very entertaining narrative of 
Southern California. 

A Young Hero; or, Fighting to Win. By Edward S. 

Ellis. 12rQO, cloth, illustrated, pi’ice $1.00. 

This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from 
the Misses Perkinpine, tw’o very old and simple minded ladies. Fred 
Sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and 
have them arrested. After much time spent in detective work, he 
succeeds in discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. The 
story is told in Mr. Bills’ most fascinating style. Every boy will be 
glad to read this delightful book. 

Lost! in the Hockies. A Story of Adventure in the 

Rocky Mountains. By EnwARn S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, 
and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced 
breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures in 
the Kockies and among the Indians. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 

publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


■r 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

A Jaunt Through Java: The Story of a Journey to 

the Sacred Mountain. By Edward S. EkiJS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
price $1.00. 

The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of 
two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip acrosss the island 
of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a laud where the 
Royal Bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be 
met with, it is hut natural that the heroes of this book should have a 
lively experience. There is not a dull page in the book. 

The Boy Patriot. A Story of Jack, the Young Friend 

of Washington. By Edward S. Ellis. l2mo, cloth, olivine edges, illuS" 
trated, price $1.50. 

“There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose 
pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are 
always equal to the occasion. It is an excellent story full of honest, 
manly, patriotic elforts on the part of the hero. A very vivid description 
of the battle of Trenton is also found in this story.’’ — Journal of 
Education. 

A Yankee Lad’s Pluck. How Bert Larkin Saved his 

Father’s Ranch in Porto Rico. By Wm. P. Chipman. ISmo, cloth, illu,j< 
trated, price $1.00. 

“Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, 
and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst 
the story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. This 
will, wd think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season. ’’-v- 
Gazette. 

A Brave Defense. A Story of the Massacre at Fort 

Griswold in 1781. By William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 

$ 1 . 00 . 

Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during 
the Revolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold, Groton Heights, Conn., 
in 1781. 'The boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, 
either at Fort Trumbull on the New London side, or of Fort Griswold on 
the Groton side of the Thames. The youthful reader who follows Halsey 
Sanford and Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally brave com- 
rades, through their thrilling adventures w'ill be learning something more 
than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, 
of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable in the arena 
of life. 

The Young Minuteman. A Story of the Capture of 

Greneral Prescott in 1777. By William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
price $1.00. 

This story is based upon actual events which occurred during the British 
occupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay. Darius Wale and William 
Northrop belong t0( “the coast patrol.’’ The story is a strong one, dealing 
only with actual events. There is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, 
and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the hook will find not 
only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his own patriotism 
and love of country are deepened. 

For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by S. J. Solomon. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
edges, price $1.00. 

“Mr. Henty ’s graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish resistance 
to Roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of 
the world. The book is one of Mr. Henty’s cleverest efforts.’’ — Graphic. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT. 52-58 Duane Street, New York, 


8 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Roy Gilbert’s Search : A Tale of the Great Lakes. By 

Wm. P. Ohipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He arranges 
with two schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes on a steam 
launch. The three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. 
Afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sink- 
ing yacht. Later on the boys narrowly escaj>e with their lives. The 
hero is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed 
with interest. 

The Slate Picker: The Stor}^ of a Boy’s Life in the 

Coal Mines. By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
This is a story of a boy’s life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. 
Ben Burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy 
he advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the 
position of chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a 
book of extreme interest to every boy reader. 

The Boy Cruisers; or, Paddling in Florida. By St. 

George Rathborne. 12mo, clotli, illustrated, price $1.00 
Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along the 
Gulf coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure 
is with a pair of rascals who steal tljeir boats. Next they run into 
a gale in the Gulf, After that they have a lively time with alli- 
gators and Andrew gets into trouble with a band of Seminole Indians. 
Mr. Rathborne knows just how to interest the boys, and lads who are 
in search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story. 

Captured by Zulus: A Story of Trapping in Africa. 

By Harry Prentice. 12iiio, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth and Bob 
IFIarv.-y, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the Zulus capture 
Dick and Bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. The 
lads escape death by dig ing their way out of the prison hut by night. 
They are pursued, but the Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice 
tells exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native 
stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading. 

Tom the Ready; or. Up from the Lowest. By Ran- 

POLPH Hill. 12mc, cloth, illustrated, price $1 00. 

This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambi- 
tious boy from the lowest round of fortune’s ladder to wealth and the 
governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb begins life with a pur- 
pose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. How he manages 
to win the battle is told by Mr. Hill in a masterfr'* way that thrills 
the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end. 

Captain Kidd’s Gold: The True Story of an Adven- 

tvirous Sailor Boy. By Jambs Franklin Fitts. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
price $1.00. 

There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea 
of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portu- 
guese and Spanish rascals, with black boards and gleaming e.ves. Tiiere 
were many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. 
Paul Jones Garry inherits a document which locates a considerable 
treasure buried by two of Kidd’s crew. The hero of this book is an 
ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his 
efforts to reach the island and secure the money form one of the most 
absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press. 

I m - , - — , 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of pricu' by tha 

publisher, A, L, BUBT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


9 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Boy Explorers: The Adventures of Two Boys in 

Alaska. By Harry Prentice. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 

Two boys, Raymond and Spencer Manning, travel to Alaska to join 
their father in search of their uncle. On their arrival at Sitka the boys 
with an Indian guide set off across the mountains. The trip is fraught 
with perils that test the lads’ courage to the utmost. All through their 
exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by 
pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most in- 
teresting tales ever written. 

The Island Treasure ; or, Harry DarreFs Fortune. 

By Frank H. Converse. 13mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Harry Darrel, having received a ‘nautical training on a school-ship, is 
bent on going to sea. A runaway horse changes his prospects. Harry 
saves Dr. Gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master 
of a sloop yacht. Mr. Converse’s stories possess a charm of their ov-u 
which is appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that 
smack of salt water. 

Guy Harris: The Eunaway. By Harry Castlemon. 

13mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Guy Harris lived In a small city on the shore of one of the Great 
Lakes. He is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough 
side of life in a sailor’s boarding house. He ships on a vessel and for 
five months leads a hard life. The book will Interest boys generally 
on account of its graphic style. This is one of Castlemon’s most attract- 
ive stories. 

Juliau' Mortimer: A Brave Boy’s Struggle for Home 

and Fortune. By Harry Castlemon. ISino, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in the days 
when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the 
land of gold. There Is an attack upon the wagon train by a large party 
of Indians. Our hero is a ’ad of uncommon nerve and pluck. Befriendeil 
by a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most 
happy results. 

By Pike aud Dyke: A Tale of the Else of the Dutch 

Republic. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Maynard Brown. 
ISnno, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the 
book, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in spite 
of themselves.” — St. James’s Gazette. 

St. George for Euglaud: A Tale of Cressy and Poi- 
tiers. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style 
the author has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm 
can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accom- 
panied by magnanimity and gentleness.” — Pall Mall Gazette. 

Captain Bayley’s Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of 

California. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12moi 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“Mr. Henty Is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and 
the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl, the West- 
minster dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled.” — Chris- 
tian Leader. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tba 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York, 


10 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 

BOOKS FOR BOY^ 

Bndd Boyd’s Triumph ; or. The Boy Firm of Fox Island. 

By William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

The scene of this story is laid on the upper part of Narragansett Bay, 
and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. The two 
boys, Bndd Boyd and Judd Floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, 
form a partnership to catch and sell fish. Budd’s pluck and good sense 
carry him through many troubles. In following the career of the boy 
firm of Boyd & Floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson — 
that industry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success. 

Lost in the Canyon: Sam Willett’s Adventures on the 

Great Colorado. By Ai.pred R Calhoun. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1, 
This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam Willett, the hero, and the 
fact that It will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies before 
be shall have reached his majority. The story of his father’s peril and 
of Sam’s desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how the 
party finally escape from their perils is described in a graphic style 
that stamps Mr. Calhoun as a master of his art. 

Captured by Apes : The Wonderful Adventures of a 

Young Animal Trainer. By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, illustrated- 
price $1.00. 

Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail for 
Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. The vessel 
is wrecked off the coast of Borneo, and young Garland is cast ashore 
on a small island, and cantured by the anes that overrun the place. 
Very novel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death, 
Mr. Prentice is a writer of undoubted skill. 

Under Drake’s Flag: A Tale of the Spanish Main. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth., 
olivine edges, price SI. 00. 

“There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but 
the author has so carefully worked up his subject that the excithig 
deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd.” — Observer, 

By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By 

G. A. Hentt. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
edges, price SI. 00. 

The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details 
of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. 

“Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys’ stories. ‘By 
Sheer Pluck’ will be eagerly read,” — ^Athenaeum. 

With Lee in Virginia : A Story of the American Civil 

War. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price ^1.00. 

“One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet written. 
The picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic inci- 
dents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm of the 
story.” — Standard. 

By England’s Aid; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands 

(1585-1604). ByG. A. Henty. With illustrations by Alfred Pe arse. 12nio, 
cloth, olivine ^ges, price SI. 00. 

“It Is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirring 
Incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the 
scene are finely reproduced. The illustrations add to its attractiveness.” — 
Boston Gazette. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 

publisher, A. L, BUBT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT'^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 11 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

By Eight of Conquest; or. With Cortez in Mexico. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by W. S. Stacey. 12mo, cloth, 
olivine edges, price $1.50. 

“The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under the 
magniticeut leadership of Cortez is always rightfully ranked among the most 
romantic and daring exploits in history. ‘By Right of Conquest’ is the 
neaiest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that Mr. Henty 
has yet published.” — Acauemy. 

For Name and Fame; or. Through Afghan Passes. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, 
oh vine edges, price $1 .00. 

“Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excite- 
ment of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a 
territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a supreme 
interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian Empire.” — 
Glasgow Herald. 

The Bravest of the Brave; or, With Peterborough in 

Spain. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by H. M. Paoet. ISmo 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work — to 
enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving ki idness, 
as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. Boys will rea- ‘The 
Bravest of the Brave’ with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite 
sure.’’ — Daily Telegraph. 

The Cat of Buhastes : A Story of Ancient Egypt. By 

G. A. Henty. With illustrations. ISmo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
“The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat 
to the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully 
constructed and full of exciting adventures. It Is admirably illustrated.” 
— Saturday Review. 

Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Cul- 

ioden. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Bro^^e. 12mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of ‘Quentin Durward.’ The 
lad’s journey across Prance, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as 
good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For frechness of 
treatment and variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself.”— 
Spectator. 

With Clive in India; or. The Beginnings of an Empire. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, 
olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital impor- 
tance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of 
itself is deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted 
with the volume.” — Scotsman. 

In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a West- 
minster Boy. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by J. Schonbero, 
12mo, cloth, ohvine edges, price $1.00. 

“Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat 
Mr. Henty’s record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity 
and peril they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty’s best.” — Saturday 
Review^ 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt Of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


1 ^ 

-L*-/ 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Lioa of the Uorth: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus 

and the Wars of Reliffioa. By Q. A. Henty. With illustrations by John 
ScHONBERG. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price SI- 00. 

“A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds 
of the Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackey, Hep- 
burn, and Munro live again in Mr. Hent.v’s pages, as those deserve to 
live whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modem 
British army.” — Athensum. 

The Dragon and the Eaven; or, The Days of King 

Alfred. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle be- 
tween Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid 
picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the 
ravages of the sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most at- 
tractive to the boyish reader.” — Athenaeum. 

The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of 

Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays 
the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose 
current varies in direction, but never loses its force.” — Saturday Review. 

In Freedom’s Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, 
olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“It is written in the author’s best style. Full of the wildest and most 
remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a bov. once 
he has begun it, will not willingly put one side.” — The Schoolmaster. 

With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Con- 
tinent. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. I2mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“A model of what a boys’ story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a 
great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as 
no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his 
books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement.” — School Guard- 

ian. 

True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of 

Independence. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne, 
12mo, cloth, olivine edges, pince $1.00. 

“Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British solldera 
fluring the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son 
of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the 
hostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared 
to us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook.” — The Times. 

A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Aus- 
tralia. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by W. B. Wollen. 12mo, 
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The 
episodes are in Mr. Henty ’s very best vein — graphic, exciting, realistic; 
and, as in all Mr* Henty’s books, the tendency is to the formation of an 
honorable, manly, and even heroic character.” — Birmingham Post. 


For sale by aU booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Diiane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


-« .T» 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Fonr- 

teenth Century. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
ISmo, cloth, olivine edges, price ^1.00. 

“Every boy should read ‘The Lion of St. Mark.* Mr. Henty has never 
produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious.’’ — • 

Saturday Review. 

Facing Death; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A 

Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon 
Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, pzdce Si. 00. 

“The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much 
reality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster 
is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is 
worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend.’’ — Standard. 

Maori and Settler: A Story of the Hew Zealand War. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Alfred Pearse. 12mo, cloth» 
olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless 
moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they 
succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New 
Zealand valleys. It is brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting 
conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life.’’ — Schoolmaster. 

One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. 

Henty. With illustrations by W. H. Overeizd. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
edges, price $1.00. 

“Written with Homeric vigor and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, 
picturesque, and dramatically effective . . . shows us Mr. Henty at 

his best and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy enthralled as he 
rushes through them with breathless interest ‘from cover to cover.’ ” — 
Observer. 

Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limer- 
ick. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
clotn, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with 
life as If what is being described Were really passing before the eye.’’ — ■ 
Belfast News-Letter. 

Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Eiots. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
edges, price $1.00. 

“Mr. Henty Inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth 
and courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. 
Henty has produced, and deserves to be classed with his ‘Facing Death.’ ’’ 
— Standard. 

The Young Midshipman: A Story of the Bombard- 
ment of Alexandria. With illustrations. l2mo, cloth, olivine edges, 
price $1.00. 

A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of 
a shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. 
In company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at 
Alexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and Is present 
through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which 
accompanied it. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 


li A. L. BURT’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

In Times of Peril. A Tale of India. By G. A. 

Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

The hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogether 
a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of the 
campaign is very graphically told.” — St. James’s Gazette. 

The Cornet of Horse: A Tale of Marlborough’s Wars. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 13mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 
“Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction 
together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a 
just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle known as the 
Crimean War.” — Athenaeum. 


The Young Franc-Tireurs : Their Adventures in the 

Franco-Prussian War. By G. A, Henty. With Dlustrations. 12mo, cloth, 
olivine edges, price $1.00. 

”A capital book for boys. It is bright and readable, and full of good 
sense and manliness. It teaches pluck and patience in adversity, and 
shows that right living leads to success.” — Observer. 


The Young Colonists: A Story of Life and War in 

South Africa. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
edges, price $1.00. 

“No boy needs to have any story of Henty’s recommended to him, and 
parents who do not know and buy them for their boys should be ashamed 
of themselves. Those to whom he is yet unknown could not make a 
better beginning than with this book. 


The Young Buglers. A Tale of the Peninsular War. 

By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 
“Mr. Henty Is a giant among boys* writers, and his books are suffi- 
ciently popular to be sure of a welcome anywhere. In stirring interest, 
this is quite up to the level of Mr. Henty’s former historical tales.”-— 
Saturday Review. 

Sturdy and Strong; or, How George Andrews Made his 

Way. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, 
price $1.00. 

“The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of tr th, clothing of 
modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty to afflu- 
ence. George Andrews is an example of character with nothing to cavil 
at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry In domestic life.” — The 
Empire. 

Among Malay Pirates. A Story of Adventure and 

Peril. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, 
price $1.00. 

“Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, 
and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced 
breathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him 
much at Its close.” — Army and Navy Gazette. 

Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea. By G. A. 

Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction 
together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot heln acquiring a 
just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle.” — Athenaeum. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 

publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 15 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Friends, Thougli Divided. A Tale of the Civil War. 

By G. A. Hknty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price ^1. 
“It has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited 
and realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure 
from first to last.’’ — Times. 

Out on the Pampas; or. The Young Settlers. 

G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 

“A really noble story, v.hich adult readers v/Ill find to the full as satis, 
fying as the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr. G. A. 
Henty.’’ — Black and White. 

The Boy Knight : A Tale of the Crusades. By G. A. 

Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price Sl.OO. 

“Of stirring episode there is no lack. The book, with Its careful accu- 
racy and its descriptions of all the chief battles, will give many a school- 
boy his first real understanding of a very Important period of history.’’ — 
St. James’s Gazette. 

The Wreck of the Golden Fleece. The Story of a North 

Sea Fisher Boy. By Roeext Leighton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
A description of life on the wild North Sea. — the hero being a parson’s 
son who is appreciated on board a Ijowestoft fishing lugger. The lad has 
to suffer many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangers 
■which he braved on board the “North Star’’ are set forth ■with minute 
knowledge and intense power. The wreck of the “Golden Fleece” forms 
the climax to a thrilling series of desperate mischances. 

Olaf the Glorious. A Story of the Viking Age. By 

Robert Leighton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 .00. 

This story of Olaf the Glorious, King of Norway, opens with the incident 
of his being found by his uncle living as a bond-slave in Esthonia; then 
come his adventures as a Viking and his raids upon the coasts of Scot- 
land and England, his victorious battle against the English at Maidou in 
Essex, his being bought off by Ethelred the Unready, and his conversion 
to Christianity. He then returns to Pagan Norway, is accepted as king, 
and converts his people to the Christian faith. 

To Greenland and tlie Pole. A story of Adventure in 

the Arctic Regions. By Gordon Stables. 12tno, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

The unfailing fascination of Arctic venturing is presented In this s .,017 
with new vividness. It deals with skilobuing In the north of Scotland, 
deer-hunting in Norway, sealing in the Arctic Seas, bear-stalking on the 
Ice-floes, the h.ardships of a .lourney across Greenland, and a successful 
voyage to the back of the North Pole. This is. Indeed, a real sea-yarn 
by a real sailor, and the tone is as bright and wholesome as the adventures 
are numerous. 

Yussuf the Guide. A Story of Adventure in Asia 

Minor. By Georoe Makville Fenn, i2mo, cloth, illn.strated, price $1.00. 

This story deals with the stirring incidents in the career of a lad who has 
been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovers health 
and strength in a journey through Asia Minor. The adventures are many, 
and culminate in the travellers being snowed up for the winter in the 
mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waiting for 
the ransom that does not come. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by x.h^ 
publisher. A, L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, Ne-w York, 


IG A. L. BURT'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 


Grettir the Outlaw. A Story of Iceland. By S. Bab* 

ing-Gould. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“This Is the boys’ book of the year. That Is, of course, as much as 
to say that It ■will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in 
simple, straightforward English, as all stories should be, and it has a 
freshness and freedom which make it Irresistible.” — Ha'tional Observer. 

Two Thousand Years Ago. The Adventures of a 

Roman Boy. By A. J. Chtjech. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“Prof. Church has in this story sought to revivify that most interesting 
period, the last days of the Roman Republic. The book is extremely en- 
tertaining as well as useful; there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman 
scenes and characters.” — Times. 

Nat the Naturalist. A Boy^s Adventure in the East- 

ern Seas. By George Man'ville Fenn, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

Nat and his uncle Dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of the 
Eastern seas, and their adventures are told in a truthful and vastly in- 
teresting fashion. The descriptions of Mr. Ebony, their black comrade, 
and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. 

The Log of the Flying Fish. A Story of Peril and 

Adventure. By Harry Colling'wood. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

‘‘This story is full of even more vividly recounted adventures than those 
which charmed so many boy readers in ‘Pirate Island’ and ‘Congo Rovers.’ 
. . . There is a thrilling adventure on the precipices of Mount Everest, 

when the ship fioats off and providentially returns by force of ‘gravita- 
tion.’ ” — Academy. 

The Congo Rovers. A Story of the Slave Squadron. 

By Harry Collingwood. 12m o, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘The scene of this tale is laid on the west coast of Africa, and in the 
lower reaches of the Congo; the characteristic scenery of the great river 
being delineated with wonderful accuracy. Mr. Collingwood carries us off 
for another cruis at sea, in ‘The Congo tlovers,’ and boys will need no 
pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures and meets with 
any number of them.” — The Times. 

Boris the Bear Hunter. A Tale of Peter the Great and 

His Times. By Fred Wisha-w. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘This is a capital story. The characters are marked and lifelike, and It 
is full of incident and adventure.” — Standard. 

Jilichael Strogoff; or, The Courier of the Czar. By 

Jules Verne. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘The story is full of originality and vigor. The characters are lifelike, 
there is plenty of stirring Incident, the interest is sustained throughout, 
and every boy will enjo.v following the fortunes of the hero. ’’-—Journal of 
Education. 


Mother Carey’s Chicken. Her Voyage to the Unknown 

Isle. By George Manviule Fenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The incidents are 
Df prilling interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and ccm- 
pieteness rarely found in a boy’s book.” — ^Literary World. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. X, BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, TIew Vork, 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. 17 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Dick Sand; or, A Captain at Fifteen. By Jules 

Vkrnk. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1,00. 

“Jules Verne himself never constructed a more marvellous tale. It con- 
tains the strongly marked features that are always conspicuous in his 
stories — a racy humor, the manly vigor of his sentiment, and wholesome 
moral lessons.’’ — Christian Leader. 

Erling the Bold. A Tale of the Norse Sea Kings 

By R. M. Ballantynk. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“This volume makes a really fascinating book, worthy of its telling 
title. There is, we venture to say, not a dull chapter in the book, not 
a page which will not bear a second reading.’’— Guardian. 

Masterman Beady; or. The Wreck of the Pacific. By 

Captain Marryat. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“As racy a tale of life at sea and adventure as we have met vrith for 
some time. . . . Altogether the sort of book that boys will revel in.” 

— Athenasum. 

The Green Mountain Boys. A Tale of the Early Set- 

tlement of Vermont, By D. P. Thosipson. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the 
author has endeavored to show that determination and patriotic enthu- 
siasm can accomplish marvellous results. This story gives a graphic ac- 
count of the early settlers of Vermont, and their patriotic efforts in de- 
fending their homes from the invasions of enemies. 

Every Inch a Sailor. By Gordon Stables. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“A story which is quite as good in its way as ‘Treasure Island,' and is 
full of adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although it is 
primarily a boys’ book, it is a real godsend to the elderly reader.’’ — 
Evening Times. 

The Golden Galleon. A Narrative of Adventure on 

Her Majesty’s Ship the Revenge. By Robert Leighton. 12mo, cloth, 
illustrated, price $1.00. 

“This story should add considerably to Mr. Leighton’s high reputation. 
Excellent in every respect, it contains every variety of incident. The plot 
is very cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea saUors are 
capital.’’ — The Times. 

The Gorilla Hunters. A Tale of the Wilds of Africa. 

By R. M. Ballantyne. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“We conscientiously belive that boys will find it capital reading. It 1« 
full of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kept up to the last 
moment. It Is full of stirring adventure, daring and many escapes; and 
It has a historical interest.’’ — Times. 

Gascoyne the Sandalwood Trader. By E. M. Bal- 

LANTYNE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“One of the best stories of seafaring life and adventure which have 
appeared this season. Entertaining In the highest degree from beginning 
to end, and full of adventure which is all the livelier for its close con 
nection with history,’’ — Spectator. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 

publisher. A. L. BURT, 5S-S8 Duane Street, New York. 


18 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Two Years Before the Mast. 'A Personal N’arrative of 

Life at Sea. By R. H. Dana, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
“One of the very best books for boys that we have seen for a long time: 
Its author stands far in advance of any other writer for boys as a teller 
of stories of the sea.” — The Standard. 

The Young Rajah. A Story of Indian Life. By W. 

H. G. Kingston. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“This story will place the author aft once in the front rank. It Is full 
of life and adventure, and the Interest is sustained without a break from 
first to last.’’ — Standard. 

How Jack Mackenzie Won His Epaulettes. A Story 

of the Crimean War. By Gordon Stables. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
price $1.00. 

“This must rank among the few undeniably good boys’ books. He 
will be a very dull boy indeed who lays it down without wishing that 
it had gone on for at least 100 pages more.’’ — Mail. 

The King’s Pardon. A Story of Land and Sea. By 

Robert Overton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“An excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to last. 
This is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the 
btrfit books of its kind which has come before us this year.” — Satiurday 
Review. 

Under the Lone Star. A Story of the Revolution in 

Nicaragua. By Herbert Hayi^es. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
“We have not of late come across a historical fiction, whether intended 
for boys or for men, which deserves to be so heartily and unreservedly 
praised as regards plot, incidents, and spirit as this book. It is its au- 
thor’s masterpiece as yet.” — Spectator. 

Geoff and Jim: A Story of School Life. By Ismay 

Thorn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This is a prettily told story of the life spent by two motherless balms 
at a small preparatory school. Both Geoff and Jim are very lovable char- 
acters, only Jim is the more so; and the scrapes he gets into and the 
trials he endures will, no doubt, interest a large circle of young readers.” 
—Church Times. 

Jack: A Topsy Turvy Story. By C. M. Crawley- 

Boevey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“The illustrations deserve particular mention, as they add largely to 
the Interest of this amusing volume for children. Jack falls asleep with 
his mind full of the subject of the fishpond, and is very much surprised 
presently to find himself an Inhabitant of Waterworld, where he goes 
through wonderful and edifying adventures. A handsome and pleasant 
book.” — Literary World, 

Black Beauty. The Autobiography of a Horse. By 

Anna Sewell. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

This is the life story of a horse; how he was ill treated and well 
cared for. The experiences of Black Beauty, Ginger, and Merrylegs are 
extremely interesting. Wherever children are, whether boys or girls, there 
this Autobiography should be. It inculcates habits of kindness to all mem- 
bers of the animal creation. The Uterary merit of the book is excellent. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A, L. BTJRT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 19 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Mopsa the Fairy. By Jean Ingelow. 13mo, cloth, 

illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Mrs. Ingelow is, to our mind, the most charming of all living writers 
for children, and ‘Mopsa’ alone ought to give her a kind of pre-emptive 
right to the love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius 
to conceive a pusely imaginary work which must of necessity deal with 
the supernatural, without running into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity; 
but genius Mrs. Ingelow has, and the story of ‘Jack’ is as careless and 
joyous, but as delicate as a picture of childhood.’’ — Eclectic. 

Carrots; Just a Little Boy. By Mrs. Moleswoeth. 

l*mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good 
fortune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delight- 
ful little beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond of. 
A genuine children’s book; we’ve seen ’em seize it, and read it greedily. 
Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate Walter Crane’s 
Illustrations. ’ ’ — Punch. 

Larry^s Luck. By the author of ^^Miss Toose/s Mis- 

sion.” 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“It is believed that this story, by this favorably known author of 
‘Miss Toosey’s Mission,’ will be found both highly Interesting and instruc- 
tive to the young. Whether the readers are nine years old, or twic^ a« 
old, they must enjoy this pretty volume.’’ — The Examiner. 

A Child’s Christmas: A Sketch of Boy Life. By Mrs. 

Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This is another of those delightful juvenile stories of which this author 
has written so many. It is a fascinating little book, with a charming 
plot, a sweet, pure atmosphere, and teaches a wholesome moral in the 
most winning manner.’’ — Gazette. 

Chunk, Fusky and Snout. A Story of Wild Pigs for 

Little People. By Gerald Yoxjng. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
“The story is an extremely interesting one, full of incident, told in a 
quiet, healthful way, and with a great deal of pleasantly interfused 
information about wild pigs and their ways. It is sure to interest both 
boys and girls.’’ — Christian Union. 

Daddy’s Boy. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illus- 

trated, price 75 cents. 

“A charming story of child life. Little Sir Rowland is one of the 
most fascinating of the misunderstood child heroes of the day. The quaint 
doings and imaginings of this gentle, lovable, but highly original child are 
introduced by Mrs. Meade, with all her accustomed pathos.’’ — Guardian. 

Adventures of Prince Prigio. By Andrew Lang 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents, 

“This book has so much charm of style and good writing that it will be 
eagerly read by many other than the young folk for whom it is intended.’’ 
—Black and White. 

A Flock of Four. A Story for Boys and Girls. By 

IsMAY Thorn. 12mo, cloth, illustrate, price 75 cents. 

“As a gift book for boys it is among the best new books of the kind. 
The story is interesting and natural, from first to last.”— Gazette. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


20 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

A Flat Iron for a Farthing. The Story of an Only 

Son. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“A very good book it is, full of adventure, graphically told. The style 
is just what it should be; simple but not bold, full of pleasant humor, 
and with some pretty touches of feeling. Like all Mrs. Ewing’s tales, 
it is sound, sensible, and wholesome.” — Times. 

The Greek Heroes. Fairy Tales for My Children. By 

Charles Kingsley. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“We do not think these heroic stories have ever been more attractively 
told. . . There is a deep under-current of religious feeling traceable 

throughout its pages which is sure to influence young readers power- 
fully. One of the children’s books that will surely become a classic.”—* 
London Review. 


Jackanapes. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This is one of Mrs. Ewing’s charming little stories for young children. 
The narrative ... is full of interest for its real grace and delicacy, 
and the exquisiteness and purity of the English in which it is written.” — • 
Boston Advertiser. 

Princess and Curdie. By George Macdonald. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good 
fortune to meet with for some time. The Princess and Curdie are delight- 
ful little beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond of.” 
—Examiner. 


Peter the Pilgrim. The Story of a Boy and His Pet 

Rabbit. By L. T. Meade. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 


“Little Peter, with his soft heart, clever head, and brave spirit is no 
morbid presentment of the angelic child ‘too good to live,’ and who is 
certainly a nuisance on earth, but a charming creature, if not a por- 
trait, whom it is a privilege to meet even in fiction.” — The Academy. 

We and the World. A Story for Boys. By Juliana 

Horatia Ewing. 18mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“The author has evidently studied the ways and tastes of children and 
got at the secret of amusing them; and has succeeded in what is not 
80 easy a task as it may seem — in producing a really good children’s 
book.” — Daily Telegraph. X 


Little Ivan’s Hero. A Story of Child Life. By 

Helen Milman. 13mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“We should imagine those queer folk indeed who could not read this 
story with eager Interest and pleasure, be they bovs or girls, young or 
old. We highly commend the style in which the book is written, and the 
spirit which pervades it.” — World. 

Dick, Marjorie and Fidge. The Wonderful Adventures 

of Three Little People. By G. E. Farrow. ISmo, cloth, illust’d, price 75c. 

* young, for whom it is especially intended, this is a 

most interesting book of adventures, well told, and a pleasant book to 
take up when their wish is to while away a weary half-hour. We have 
seen no prettier gift-book for a long time.” — Athenaeum. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent 
publisher, A, L. BURT, 52-58 Duane 



A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 21 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 


A Wonder Book: For Boys and Girls. Comprising 

Classi^l Fables. By Nathiniel Hawthorne. 12mo, cloth. 
Illustrated, price 75 cents. ^ 


A beautiful little story. It will be read with delight by every child 
Into whose hands it is placed.”— Gazette. ^ 


My Dog Plato: His Adventures and Impressions. By 

H. M. Cornwall Legh. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“A capital story, and one we heartily commend to boy readers, both 
gentle and simple.” — Guardian. 


Squib and Eis Friends. A Story for Children. By 

Ellen Everett Green. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This bonk will please by its simplicity, its tenderness, and its healthy 
Interesting motiye. It is admirably written.” — Scotsman, 

Tom’s Opinion. The Story of a Boys’ School. By 

the author of “ Miss Toosey’s Mission.” 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75c. 

“A beautiful little story, ... It will be read with delight by 
every boy into whose hands it is placed.” — Pall Mall Gazette. 

Robin’s Ride. A Story for Children. By Ellinor 

D. Adams. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“It is a first-rate boys’ book. It is a capital story; the characters ar* 
well drawn, and the incidents are perfectly natural.” — Times. 


Peter and Tom. A Story for Boys. By Belle S. 

Cragin. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

Peter and Tom were unlikely heroes, particularly in the direction of 
heroism, but the proper chord was touched in each of their lives, and 
through many trials and adventures they developed Christian principles and 
successfal business traits. 

Eurse Heatherdale’s Story. By Mrs. Molesworth. 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“ ‘Nurse Heatherdale’s Story’ is all about a small boy, who was good 
enough, yet was always getting into some trouble through complication* 
In which he was not to blame. He is an orphan, though he is cared for in 
s. way by relations, who are not so very rich, yet are looked on as well 
fixed. After many youthful trials and disappointments he falls into a 
big stroke of good luck, which lifts him and goes to make other* happy.” 
— Commercial Advertiser. 


The Last of the Huggermuggers. A Giant Story. By 

Christopher P. Crauch. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Fresh and charming in stylo, with fun that is never forced, pathos 
that is always genuine, and with a distinctly wholesome purpose. This is 
coitain to be a favorite with boys.” — Literary World. 

The Hunting of the Snark. By Lewis Carroll, 

aTithor of “Alice in Wonderland.” 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Whetbor as regarding author or illustrator, this book is a jewel 
rei'oly to be found nowadays. Not a whit inferior to its predecessor in 
g-nr.l eTtvavacanco of imagination, and delicious allegorical nonsense.” 
— iuarteriy Review. 


r ■’ sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by th« 
iVncr, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 





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